OF 


HALL  !  BUY  LIL- 
GHRlfrTPAS? 


The  People 


WON'T  SHE  BE  SUR 
PRISED? 


Smiled 


BEING  .  .  . 


collections  of  a  Merry 
Little  Life. 


MARSHALL  P.  WILDER. 


NOW,  WHAT  SHALL  I 
BUY  MY  WIFE? 


WAIT  UNTIL  SHE  SEES 
THAT  WATCH! 


r -  • 


PHOTOGRAPH  BY  MARCEAU,  NEW  YORK. 


* 


I 


THE  PEOPLE  I'VE 
»  SMILED  WITH  * 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF 
A  MERRY  LITTLE 
LIFE  w  N»  w  ^  w  ^  w 

MARSHALL  P.  WILDER 


NEW  YORK  : 

J.  S.  OGILVIE  PUBLISHING  COMPANY, 
57  ROSE  STREET. 


Copyright  1886 
By  O.  M.  DUNHAM 

Copyright  1899 

BY 

THE  WERNER  COMPANY 

— T.P.I.  s.w: 


J*S 


J<- 

H  Af  f^ 
INTRODUCTORY. 


"A  merry  heart  doeth  good  like  a  medicine;  but  a  broken  spirit  drieth 

the  bones." — PKOV.,  chap,  xvii.,  verse  22. 

IN  a  world  so  filled  with  cankering  care, 
4<  blessing's  on  him  who  invented  sleep," 
as  simple  Sancho  Fanza  says,  and  blessed  be 
he  who  with  merry  quip  beguiles  tedious 
hours  or  causes  one  flower  of  merriment  to 
bloom  in  the  desert  of  selfishness  and  sor 
row. 

When  first  I  met  Marshall  P.  Wilder,  I  was 
drawn  toward  him  because  of  his  magnetic 
smile  and  because  of  a  sympathy  for  a  merry 
lad  who  bore  his  little  cross  so  patiently.  I 
saw  in  him  one  who,  from  the  hour  that  his 
bright  eyes  opened  on  his  cradle,  might  well 
have  railed  at  Nature  ;  one  who,  cheated  of 
fair  hours  and  fair  gifts,  might  well  have  been 
the  prey  of  misanthropy;  who  might  have 
taken  Thersites  for  a  model  rather  than  Mer- 
cutio,  and  whose  heart  might  well  have  been 


ii  Introductory. 

filled  with  bitterness  rather  than  the  sunshine 
which  makes  cheerful  the  darkest  days. 

To  this  brave  and  philosophical  youth  has 
been  given  the  richest  of  dowers — the  power 
to  make  others  happy  : 

"  He  is  so  full  of  pleasing  anecdote, 
So  rich,  so  poignant  in  his  wit, 
Time  vanishes  before  him  as  he  speaks." 

In  his  soul  no  envy  lurks.  His  heart  is  brim-  » 
ful  of  charity.  His  name  is  synonymous 
with  mirth.  He  is  a  living  illustration  of  how 
kindly  the  harsh  world  receives  those  who 
come  to  it  smiling  and  bearing  in  their  hands 
offerings  of  good-will. 

Where  he  has  passed  the  flowers  bloom  not 
less  brightly  because  his  feet  have  touched. 
Children  laugh  and  run  to  meet  the  messenger 
of  Momus ;  solemn  men  forget  their  ills ; 
hearts  grow  tender  under  the  magic  pathos  of 
his  voice,  and  in  all  homes  he  is  as  welcome  as 
the  minstrel  of  old  with  harp  and  song  and 
story. 

He  has  written  here  a  little  book  which  is  a 
reflex  of  his  own  happy,  buoyant  nature.  It 
contains  recollections  of  a  life  which  has 
known  no  evil,  and  which,  if  it  has  not  always 
been  spent  in  sunshine,  has  reflected  every 


DEDICATED 

TO  MY  SECOND  MOTHER, 

THE  AMERICAN  PUBLIC. 


I 


-" 


Introductory.  iii 

pleasant  rainbow  hue  which  has  fallen  upon  it. 
As  one  who  has  smiled  with  him,  I  ask  for 
this  unpretentious  book  even  more  than  its 
deserving,  for  I  know  that  it  is  the  offering  of 
a  grateful  heart  to  a  public  whose  kindness  has 
been  as  cherishing  as  the  dews  which  kiss  the 
roses  where  shadows  often  rest. 

JOHN  A.  COCKERILL. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER    I. 

FAGB 

"  YOURS,  MERRILY,"— How  I  CAME  TO  SMILE.— DAME 
NATURE  OUT  OF  SORTS,  BUT  SHE  RELENTED. — WHAT 
THE  OLD  LADY  GAVE  ME. — How  OTHERS  CAME  TO 
SMILE  WITH  ME. — SMILING  AS  A  BUSINESS,  AND  THE 
FRIENDS  IT  BROUGHT  ME, a 

CHAPTER    II. 

HENRY  WARD  BEECHER. — MRS.  BEECHER. — A  LONG 
HILL  OFT  CLIMBED.  —  Two  OLD  SUNDAY-SCHOOL 
BOYS  IN  COUNCIL. — A  FRIEND  FOR  LIFE. — HE  SEEMED 
TO  KNOW  EVERYTHING. — A  LOVE  SCENE  NOT  TO 
BE  FOUND  IN  NOVELS, 6 

CHAPTER  III. 

GENERAL  GRANT. — ONE  OF  His  PREDICTIONS  WHICH 
HASN'T  BEEN  FULFILLED. — WE  DROVE  TOGETHER 
THROUGH  CENTRAL  PARK. — I  SURRENDERED  UNCON 
DITIONALLY. — THE  TRULY  GREAT  ARE  TRULY 
GOOD. — HE  COULD  NOT  EXULT  OVER  A  FALLEN 
FOE.— HE  TEACHES  A  MARE  TO  TROT.— BETTER 
THAN  FUNNY, 14 


vi  Contents. 

CHAPTER  IV. 

PAGE 
EX-PRKSIDENT       CLEVELAND.— I     VISIT       THE       WHITE 

HOUSE.— THE  LAST  SHALL  BE  FIRST.— THE  MAGIC 
OF  A  LETTER. — A  WONDERFUL  MAN  AT  DISPATCH 
ING  BUSINESS. — MRS.  CLEVELAND,  -  -  -  -  21 

CHAPTER  V. 

MR.  ELAINE. — A  JOLLY  GOOD  FELLOW. — No  AIRS 
ABOUT  HIM. — A  CAPITAL  STORY-TELLER. — QUITE 
AS  SENSITIVE  AS  OTHER  MEN. — A  SYMPATHETIC 
LISTENER. — MRS.  ELAINE. — A  PEEP  BEHIND  THE 
SCENES. — IT  MIGHT  HAVE  BEEN  A  HONEYMOON  TRIP,  27 

CHAPTER  VI. 

GOING  ABROAD. — A  FORLORN  HOPE. — MY  OWN 
PRIVATE  STORY. — THE  PRINCE  OF  WALES. — EVERY 
INCH  A  PRINCE,  AND  THE  PRINCE -OF  GOOD  FELLOWS 
BESIDE. — His  COURTESY,  THOUGHTFULNESS,  TACT, 
AND  KINDNESS. — WHY  THE  ENGLISH  LIKE  HIM. — 
ENGLISH  MANNERS  IN  THE  PRINCE'S  PRESENCE. — 
ONE  YANKEE  WHO  SWEARS  BY  HIM,  -  -  35 

CHAPTER  VII. 

LONDON  SOCIETY. — AMERICANS  HAVE  A  MISTAKEN  IDEA 
ABOUT  IT. — GOOD  TASTE  AND  UNAFFECTED  MAN 
NERS. — DUKE  OF  TECK. — EARL  DUDLEY. — BRITISH 
LOYALTY. — VISITORS  ARE  MADE  TO  FEEL  AT 
HOME.— THE  EGYPTIAN  PRINCES. — VICTORIA,  D.  G., 
ETC. — "Gop  SAVE  THE  QUEEN,"  •  -  -  -43 


Contents.  vii 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

PAGB 

ENTERTAINING  IN  LONDON.  —  ENGLISH  "SWELLS" 
DRESS  PLAINLY  AT  PARTIES. — No  DISPLAY  OF 
JEWELRY.  —  BARON  ROTHSCHILD. — BRAINS  RULE 
IN  GOOD  SOCIETY.  —  MRS.  RONALDS.  —  MRS. 
MACKAY. — LADY  ARTHUR  PAGET. — No  CROWD  OR 
NOISE  IN  THE  BEST  HOUSES. — No  DISPLAY,  -  -54 

CHAPTER  IX. 

"THE  SEASON." — SUMMER,  BUT  NOT  HOT  WEATH 
ER.  —  A  CHANCE  FOR  AMERICANS.  —  ENTERTAIN 
MENTS  WITH  A  RUSH. — RAIN  ALSO. — WILLIAM  BEAT- 
TY  KINGSTON. — GEORGE  AUGUSTUS  SALA. — LA- 
BOUCHERE. — SIR  MORELL  MACKENZIE  :  —  NEWMAN 
HALL. — JOSEPH  PARKER. — LADY  WILDE. — OSCAR 
WILDE. — WILLIE  WILDE, 63 

CHAPTER  X. 

LONDON  CLUBS.— SEMI-HOMES,  SEMI-OFFICES.— GREAT 
BLESSINGS  TO  WIVES. — THE  SAVAGE. — A  SATURDAY 
NIGHT. — HOSPITABLE  TO  AMERICANS. — I  "TAKE 
OFF"  BIGGAR. — THE  LYRIC  CLUB. — THE  NEW 
CLUB. — THE  ODD  VOLUMES. — THE  GALLERY. — TITLE 
AND  RANK, '  -  -  74 

CHAPTER  XL 

HENRY  IRVING. — A  MOST  REMARKABLE  MAN. — DIS 
CUSSED  AS  AN  ACTOR — AGREED  UPON  AS  A  MAN.— 
HE  WAS  MY  FRIEND. — ALWAYS  SAYS  AND  DOES  THE 
RIGHT  THING. — MY  IMPUDENCE  AND  HIS  GOOD 


viii  Contents. 

PACK 

NATURE. —ALWAYS  AT  HIS  BEST. — NEVER  TALKS  OF 
HIMSELF. — WHEN  DOES  HE  SLEEP  ? — A  TALKING 
FACE. — His  DELICATE  WAY  OF  DOING  THINGS. — 
KIND  TO  AMERICANS. — His  LITTLE  JOKE  ON  ME. — 
HENRY  IRVING,  JUNIOR,  -..---  83 

CHAPTER   XII. 

AMERICANS  IN  ENGLAND. — No  END  TO  THEM. — THEY 
ARE  WELL  TREATED. — NOT  FAIR  TO  OUR  MINIS 
TER. — MR.  PHELPS. — FOURTH  OF  JULY  AT  THE 
LEGATION.  —  AN  AMERICAN  MONTE  CRISTO. — THE 
SCHOOL  TREAT. — ENGLISH  SHOPS  AND  AMERICAN 
CUSTOMERS. — HOWARD  PAUL. — UNFORTUNATE  YAN 
KEES,  -  97 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

BUFFALO  BILL.— HE  MET  OLD  FRIENDS.— A  LION  IN 
SOCIETY. — NATE  SAULSBURY. — JACK  BURKE. — IN 
DIANS  IN  DRAWING-ROOMS. — I  ENTERTAINED  THEM. — 
A  PATRIOTIC  EXPLANATION. — THE  BOYS  TOLD  STO 
RIES.— ONE  ABOUT  NED  BUNTLINE. — BUCK  TAYLOR'S 

PIE,  -       -  108 

CHAPTER  XIV, 

MY  SUCCESS  ABROAD. — No  SECRET  ABOUT  IT. — NEVER 
MADE  FUN  OF  THE  ENGLISH.  —  NOR  FORCED  MY 
SELF  UPON  THEM. — INTERESTED  MYSELF  IN  MY 
FRIENDS.  —  No  "EFFETE"  NONSENSE. — DID  NOT 
"  TOADY." —  No  FAVORS  DEMANDED.  —  DRANK 
NOTHING  STRONGER  THAN  WATER.— WHEN  I  AD 
MIRED  ANYTHING  I  SAID  so.— PUT  ON  No  "AIRS,"  122 


Contents.  ix 

CHAPTER  XV. 

PACK 

ANSWERS  TO  CORRESPONDENTS.  —  MY  RECITATIONS 
ABROAD. — THE  RENOVATION  AND  ORNAMENTATION 
OF  THE  CHESTNUT.— MARK  TWAIN  ON  CHESTNUTS. — 
How  I  HANDLED  THEM.  —  Punch  EXPLAINS  FOR 
ME. — DEVISE  SOMETHING  NEW. — THE  ENGLISH  LIKE 
PUNS.  —  AN  HISTORIC  SPECIMEN.  —  RESPECT  OTHER 
ARTISTS.  —  THE  LANDLORD  AND  THE  DOG.  —  AN 
IRISH  TOAST.  —  TAKING  BITS  OF  AMERICAN  HUMOR. 
— Too  MUCH  ADVICE,  -  -  -  -  •  -  136 

CHAPTER   XVI. 

ENGLISH  RESPECT  FOR  THE  DRAMATIC  PROFESSION. — 
THE  LORD  MAYOR'S  DRAMATIC  RECEPTION. — WIL 
SON  BARRETT.  —  TOOLE.  —  ONE  OF  His  STORIES. — 
"Gus"  HARRIS.  —  W.  S.  GILBERT.  —  SIR  ARTHUR 
SULLIVAN. — CHARLES  WYNDHAM. — MADAME  PATTI. 
— ENGLISH  THEATERS  DON'T  EQUAL  OURS,  -  -  147 

CHAPTER  XVII. 

BEAUTIFUL  PARIS. — FRENCH  AS  I  ACT  IT. — IN  SEARCH 
OF  NAPOLEON'S  TOMB. — ORDERING  A  BATH. — RES 
TAURANT  FRENCH.  —  LEGAL,  BUT  FRENCHY.  —  THE 
CHAMPS  ELYSEES.  —  DRENCH  GIRLS  NOT  AS  PRETTY 
AS  OURS. —  CLEAN  STREETS. — A  WAR  STORY  TO  THE 
POINT. — SOME  OF  THE  SIGHTS. — A  VANDERBILT  IN 
CIDENT.  160 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 

AMERICANS  AHEAD  OF  THE  WORLD.  —  SOME  NEW 
YORKERS.-— CORNELIUS  VANDERBILT.— HE  SENT  ME 


jc  Contents. 

PAGE 

AROUND.— So  DID  PETER  COOPER. — A  THOMPSON 
STREET  AFFAIR.— CHAUNCEY  DEPEW.— THAT  WAY 
OF  His.— BOB  INGERSOLL.— His  PERFECT  HOME.— 
RELIGION  AND  PHILOSOPHY. — TOM  OCHILTREE. — HE 
IMITATED  WASHINGTON, 173 

CHAPTER  XIX. 

AMERICAN  ACTORS.  —  THEY  ARE  GREAT  STORY-TEL 
LERS.—  AUGUSTIN  DALY  AND  His  BROTHER.— JAMES 
LEWIS.  —  In  re  COQUELIN.  —  NAT  GOODWIN.  —  DE 
WOLF  HOPPER.—  BARRETT.—  BOOTH.  —  CHANFRAU'S 
BEST  STORY.  —  BEN  M  AGINLEY.  —  No'  ADMITTANCE 
BEHIND  THE  SCENES. — MARK  TWAIN'S  EXPERIENCE. 
— MAURICE  BARRYMORE,  -  -  -  -  -  -  188 


CHAPTER  XX. 

AFTER-DINNER  SPEAKERS. — ENGLISHMEN  ADMIRE  OURS. 
— TOM  WALLER. — CHAUNCEY  DEPEW. — WAYNE  Mc- 
VEAGH. — MOSES  P.  HANDY. — THE  BALD  EAGLE  OF 
WESTCHESTER.  —  THE  MAN  WHO  DIDN'T  KICK. — 
COMPETITIVE  LYING. — HORACE  PORTER. — BILL  NYE. 
— JAMES  WHITCOMB  RILEY. — JUDGE  BRADY. — JUDGE 
DAVIS. — DAVID  DUDLEY  FIELD.  -  $00 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

NEWSPAPER  MEN  ARE  RELIABLE  SMILERS. — JOHN  COCK- 
ERILL.  —  GENERAL  SHERMAN  EXPLAINS.  —  SOME  OF 
COCKERILL'S  YARNS. —  AMOS  CUMMINGS. —  SOME  OF 
HIS  STORIES.  —  JOE  HOWARD  BRINGS  DOWN  THE 
HOUSE. -r-WiLLiE  WINTER. — HENRY  GUY  CARLETON 


Contents.  x! 

PAGE 

ON  COMMERCIAL  TRAVELERS.  —  BOB  MORRIS.  —  JOE 
CLARKE.— JOHN  REED.  — WILL  STARRS.  —  GEORGE 
WILLIAMS.— THE  PRESS  CLUB.— THE  FELLOWCRAFT.  209 

CHAPTER   XXII. 

SOME  POINTS  OF  BUSINESS.— No  TRICK  ABOUT  IT.— A 
MATTER  OF  LONG  PRACTICE.  —  MY  EARLIEST  AP 
PEARANCE.  —  JOE  JEFFERSON.  —  A  GALLOWS  FOR  A 
STAGE.  —  BUFFALO  BILL  WITH  RED  HAIR.  —  MY 
FRIENDS  THE  NEWSBOYS,  —  I  LEARNED  SOMETHING 
FROM  TALMAGE.— A  HINT  TO  PREACHERS — MARCUS 
SPRING'S  STORY.— THE  BOSTON  COMMON  INCIDENT 
ADAPTED, 223 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 

PART  OF  MY  PAY. — THE  FUN  I  GET  FROM  MY  HEAR- 
EKS.— THEY  ASKED  FOR  MY  FATHER.— A  THRIFTY 
HEBREW. —  No  CREED  ABOUT  MONEY. —  EXPECTED 
TO  PARADE. — SOME  GREAT-HEARTED  PHILADELPHI- 
ANS.  —  A  BLIND  ORCHESTRA.  —  CABMEN'S  JOKES. — 
CARL  ZERRAHN'S  PREDICAMENT.— TAMING  A  BEAR.— 
MIND- READING.  -  ---.•-'  233 

CHAPTER   XXIV. 

AN  OCEAN  TRIP.— A  GLORIOUS  BRACER.— SOME  PEOPLE 
WHOM  You  DON'T  MEET.  —  CREDITORS.  —  PEOPLE 
You  ARE  SURE  TO  SEE.  —  THE  DOCTOR.  —  FRED 
DOUGLASS. —  HONEYMOON  COUPLES. —  GOSSIP. —  THE 
RESURRECTION  OF  "PLUG"  HATS.— CUSTOM-HOUSE 
OFFICIALS. — THE  TRAVELING  DUDE. — WHEN  BLAINE 
SMILED.  -  246 


xii  Contents. 

CHAPTER  XXV. 

PAGS 

MYSELF  ONCE  MORE. — ONE  USE  OF  AFFLICTION. — 
PICKING  UP  MATERIAL.  —  DINING  CUSTOMS.  —  NOT 
THE  RIGHT  STORY. — Two  STAMMERERS. — I  LAUGH 
AT  MY  JOKES.— SOMETIMES  THE  AUDIENCE  LAUGH 
AT  THE  WRONG  PLACE.  —  CRITICAL  AUDIENCES. — 
HARD  WORK. — GOOD-BY,  ......  259 


INDEX. 


18 


INDEX. 


Names  of  Persons  Mentioned  in  these  Stories. 


Ashton.  Mr.    44. 
Adams,  Edwin.    193. 

B 

Beecher,  Henry  Ward.    7,  92, 

108,  259. 

Beecher,  Mrs.    8. 
Bonner,  Robert.    18. 
Blaine,  Jas.  G.  29,  67, 101,  258. 
Blaine,  Mrs.    34. 
Burton,  Lady.    49. 
Bohee  Brothers.    50. 
Burton,  Lord.    57. 
Barrett,  Wilson.    57, 150. 
Brough,  Lionel.    68, 146, 149. 
Beresford,  Lord  Chas.    79. 
Bancroft,  Mr.    79, 149. 
Bennett,  James  Gordon.     97. 
Bigelow,  Mrs.  John.    101. 
Burke,  Major  John.    113. 
Buffalo  Bill.    108,  227. 
Buntline,  Ned.    119,  227. 
Bunns,  Governor.    143. 
Bancroft,  Mrs.    149. 
Beerbohm-Tree,  Mrs.    149. 
Barrett,  Lawrence,  192. 
Booth,  Edwin.    92. 
Barrymore,  Maurice.    198. 
Brady,  Judge.    207. 
Beard,  Dr.  Geo.  M.    248. 


Ooutts,  Burdett,  Baroness.  37. 
Cleveland,  Grover.  1'2, 21, 183. 
Cleveland,  Mrs.    25. 
Campbell,  Tim.    25. 
Cassatt,  Mr.  Scott.    30. 


Crawford,  Mr.  T.  C.    30. 
Churchill,  Lord  Randolph.  38. 
Churchill,  Lady  Randoh  h.  57. 
Connaught,  Duke  of.    59. 
Connaught,  Duchess  of.    59. 
Clayton,  John.    68. 
Corden,  Sir  Robert.    149. 
Cooper.  Mr.  Peter.    175,  214. 
Coquelm,  Mr.    190. 
Cockerill,  John  A.    210. 
Carleton,  Henry  Guy.    217. 
Clarke,  Joe.    219. 
Clarkson,  Mr.    237. 
Croly,  Mrs.    267. 


Donoughmore,  Earl  of.    30. 
Dudley,  Earl.    48,  79. 
DeLisle,  Lord.    79. 
Denmark,  King  of.    114. 
Depew,  Chauncey.    177,  201. 
Duval,  Mr.    179. 
Daly,  Augustin.    189. 
Davis,  Noah,  Judge.    207. 
Douglass,  Fred.    250. 


E 

Egypt,  Khedive  of.    51. 
Everett,  Hon.  Edward. 
Evarts,  Senator.    182. 


140. 


F 


102. 


Fowler,  Messrs. 
Frith,  Mr.    103. 
Fredericks,  Harold.    145. 
Farren,  Nellie.    149. 
Foraker,  Gov.    183. 
Field,  David  Dudley.    207. 


14 


INDEX. 


G 

Grant,  General.    9, 14. 
Gilbert,  U.S.    57,154. 
Goldsmith,  Julius,  Sir.    79. 
Grossmith,  Weedon.    88. 
Greece,  King  of.    114. 
G  oorge,  Prince  of  Greece.  114. 
George,  Prince  of  Wales.  114. 
Grain,  Corney.    139. 
Grossmith,  George.    139. 
Gordon,  Gov.    183. 
Goodwin,  Nat.    191. 


Handy,  Moses  P.    26,  201. 
Hauk,  Minnie.    57. 
Hall,  Rev.  Newman.    70. 
Harte,  Bret.    80,  89,  203. 
Horton,  Mr.    103. 
Howard,  Bronson.    129. 
Hanson,  Hon.  Sir  Reginald. 

148. 

Heath,  Miss.    150. 
Harris,  Augustus.    153. 
Hayes,  Ex-President.    183. 
Hawley,  Senator.    183. 
Harlan,  Judge.    183. 
Handy,  President.    183. 
Hopper,  DeWolf.    192. 
Husted,  Jimmy.    201. 
Hill,  J.  M.     207,  236. 
Howard,  Joe.    214. 
Heyer,  Will  L.    217. 


Irving,  Henry.    43,  65,  79,  83, 

147. 

Ingersoll,  Bob.    180,  205. 
Irving,  Washington.    249. 


Jefferson,  Joe.    225. 


Kingston,    William    Beatty. 

65,  92. 

Kendal,  Mr.    149. 
Kendal,  Mrs.    149. 
Keeley,  Mrs.    149. 


Lee,  General.    17. 

Lindsay,  Sir  Coutts.    38,  80, 

89. 

Labouchere,  Mr.    66,  90. 
Labouchere,  Mrs.    69. 
Londesborough,  Earl  of.    79. 
Lowell,  James  Russell.     99, 

101. 

Louis,  Prince  of  Baden.    114. 
London,  Lord  Mayor  of.   148. 
Leslie,  Fred.    149. 
Lee,  Gov.    183. 
Lewis,  James.    189. 
Leslie,  Mrs.  Frank.    244,  267. 

M 

Moltke,  General.    16. 
Mackay,  Mrs.    54. 
Mary,  Princess.    59. 
Mackenzie,  Dr.  Morell.  69, 79. 
Motley,  John  Lothrop.  99, 108. 
Maud,  Princess,  of  Wales.  114. 
Megargee,  Lou.    144. 
Matthews,  Mrs.  Chas.    149. 
Mapleson,  Col.    149. 
McClure,  Col.  Aleck.    183. 
McCaull,  Col.  John.    183. 
Maginley,  Ben.    193. 
Me Yeagh,  Wayne.    201. 

N 

Nevada,  Madame.    57, 101. 

Nicolini.    92. 

North,  J.  T.,  Col.    101. 

North,  Mrs.    104. 

Nye,  Bill.    205. 


O'Connor,  Mrs.  T.  P.    12. 
O'Brien,  W.  F.    26. 
Oudin,  Mr.  Eugene.    41. 
Ochiltree,  Tom,  Col.    184. 


Parker,  Jos.,  Rev.    12,  70. 
Pemberton,  Gen.    17. 
Porter,  Horace,  Gen.    18,  204. 


INDEX. 


15 


Peters,  Jim.    36. 

Paget,  Lady.    57. 

Patti.     65,  92,  156,  224. 

Phelps,  Mr.    99. 

Potter,   Mrs.  James  Brown. 

101. 

Pinero,  Mr.    149. 
Parsons,  Mayor.    232. 

E 

Eonald,  Mrs.    47,  56. 
Eothscnild,  Baron.    54. 
Eitchie,  Mrs.    56. 
Eichter,  Hans.    65. 
Eankin,  McKee.    108. 
Eudolph,    Crown   Prince   of 

Austria.    114. 
Eoze,  Marie.    149. 
Eobinson,  Jim.    203. 
Eiley,  James  Whitcomb.  205. 
Eeed,  John.    219. 


Sullivan,  John  L.    4,  154. 
Schofield,  General,  16. 
Stokes,  Ned.    18. 
Sherman,  General.    25,  211. 
Sala,  George  Augustus.  57,  66. 
Sullivan,  Sir  Arthur.     57,  79, 

156. 

Strong,  Dr.    70. 
Stanley,  Henry  M.    77. 
Sherwood,  Mrs.  John.    101. 
Salisbury,  Nate.    112. 
Saxony,  King  of.    114. 
Sweden  and  Norway,  Crown 

Prince  of.    114. 
Saxe-Meiningen,    Prince   of. 

114. 
Saxe-Meiningen,  Princess  of. 

114. 

Sparta,  Duke  of.    114. 
Stiowden,  Col.  A.  Louden.  183. 
Starks,  Will.    220. 
Scott,  General.    221. 
Spring,  Marcus.    230. 
Stetson,  Mr.    238. 


Teck,  Duke  of.    47,  59. 
Toole,  J.  L.    68,  149. 
Terry,  Ellen.    68,  149. 
Train,  Geo.  Francis.    108. 
Taylor,  Buck.    120. 
Twain,  Mark.    137, 190,  205. 
Talmage,    Eev.   T.    DeWitt. 
205,  265,  228. 


Victoria,  Queen.    51. 
Victoria,  Princess,  of  Prussia. 

114. 
Victor,     Prince    Albert,    of 

Wales.    114. 
Victoria,  Princess,  of  Wales. 

114. 

Vezin,  Herman,    149. 
Vanderbilt,  Cornelius,  174. 

W 

Wilder,  Marshall.    15,  23,  95, 

149,  228.  233,  241. 
Wolseley,  Sir  Garnet.    16. 
Wales,  Prince  of.   37,  107,  114. 
Wales,  Princess  of.    37, 114. 
Wyndham,  Chas.    68,  90, 157, 

149. 

Wilde,  Lady.    72. 
Wilde,  Oscar.    72. 
Wilde,  Willie.    72. 
Ward,  Artemus.    145. 
Wood,  Mrs.  John,  149. 
Washburn,  Mr.    168. 
Wise,  John  F.    183. 
Waller,  Tom.    201. 
Wagner,  Hans.    203. 
Winter,  Willie.    215. 
Williams,  Geo.  F.    221. 


Yates,  Edmund.    84, 149. 
Young,  John  Eussell.    167. 


Zerrahn,  Carl.    240. 


THE  PEOPLE  I'VE  SMILED  WITH. 


CHAPTER    I. 

"  YOURS,  MERRILY,"— How  I  CAME  TO  SMILE.— DAMI 
NATURE  OUT  OF  SORTS,  BUT  SHE  RELENTED. —  WHAT 
THE  OLD  LADY  GAVE  ME. — How  OTHERS  CAME  TO  SMILE 
WITH  ME. — SMILING  AS  A  BUSINESS,  AND.  THE  FRIENDS  IT 
BROUGHT  ME. 

WHY  one  man  should  smile  more  than  some 
others,  and  how  I  chanced  to  be  that  man,  may 
properly  be  stated  here,  by  way  of  explana 
tion  of  the  following  pages.  Besides,  I  am  the 
smallest  man  mentioned  in  this  book,  and 
"  the  shortest  horse  is  soonest  curried." 

To  begin  at  the  beginning,  as  the  crane  said 
when  he  swallowed  the  eel  head  first,  old 
Dame  Nature  appeared  to  be  out  of  sorts  when 
she  got  hold  of  me.  She  put  a  couple  of  feet 
under  me,  but  she  left  a  couple  of  feet  off  of 
my  stature.  She  didn't  make  me  tall  enough 
to  look  down  on  anybody,  or  strong  enough 
to  thrash  anybody,  so  I  never  was  allowed  the 
small-boy  privilege  of  "  putting  on  airs." 


2  The  People  I've  Smiled  With": 

After  a  while  Dame  Nature  took  another 
look,  and  seemed  to  think  she  hadn't  done  the 
fair  thing  by  me,  so  she  gave  me  an  expansive 
smile  and  a  big  laugh.  I  liked  them  both ; 
they  amused  me  a  great  deal  whenever  there 
chanced  to  be  nobody  else  looking  after  me. 
I  cultivated  that  smile  and  that  laugh  until 
the  one  grew  very  broad  and  the  other  very 
loud.  In  fact,  both  became  so  prominent  as  to 
attract  a  great  deal  of  attention. 

Pretty  soon  they  began  to  make  themselves 
useful  to  me  at  school.  All  of  my  readers 
who  have  been  to  school  know  that  boys  aren't 
the  gentlest  creatures  in  the  world  ;  turn  a  lion 
and  a  lot  of  schoolboys  loose  in  the  same  well- 
fenced  lot,  and  the  lion  would  be  roaring  for 
the  police  in  less  than  five  minutes.  As  for  a 
small  boy  who  isn't  strong  enough  to  fight, — 
why,  there  will  always  be  a  crowd  of  bigger 
boys  who  will  see  how  near  they  can  come  to 
worrying  him  to  death  without  killing  him. 

There  were  some  boys  of  that  kind  in  the 
school  I  first  attended,  and  they  "  went  for 
me."  I  tried  to  defend  myself  with  my  smile 
and  my  laugh ;  I  hadn't  anything  else  to  hit 
them  with,  and  I  beat  them.  They  gave  up 
when  they  found  I  didn't  worry  worth  a  cent. 
Then  they  were  so  surprised  that  they  stood 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life,          3 

around  and  asked  what  kind  of  fellow  I  was 
any  way,  In  reply,  I  smiled  and  laughed  some 
more,  and  told  them  a  stpry  or  two.  After 
that  I  was  the  biggest  boy  in  school. 

"  Orpheus,  with  his  lute,  made  trees, 
And  the  mountain  tops  that  freeze, 
Bow  themselves  when  he  did  sing." 

I  don't  wish  to  belittle  Orpheus's  well-earned 
reputation,  but  in  spite  of  his  great  achieve 
ments  I  don't  believe  he  could  have  drawn  a 
bigger  crowd  in  our  old  school  yard  with  his 
music  than  I  always  did  as  soon  as  I  laughed  a 
specimen  or  two.  No  sooner  would  I  get  to 
work  than  the  juvenile  toughs  would  stop 
fighting,  and  the  juvenile  saints  stop  doing 
nothing,  all  to  gather  around  me,  and  hear  my 
jokes  or  tell  me  some, — it  didn't  seem  to  matter 
much  which, — so  they  could  see  me  smile  and 
hear  me  laugh. 

When  I  became  old  enough  to  want  to 
select  a  life  occupation,  I  found  myself  in  a 
serious  quandary.  All  the  callings  to  which 
boys  at  first  naturally  incline  seemed  closed 
against  me.  I  couldn't  be  clown  in  a  circus  or 
enter  for  a  walking-match,  for  my  legs  were 
too  short.  I  couldn't  preach,  for  my  head 
wouldn't  reach  the  top  of  the  pulpit.  There 
was  no  chance  for  me  in  Congress,  for  the 


4  The  People  I've  Smiled  With  : 

Speaker  couldn't  see  me,  to  recognize  me, 
unless  I  stood  on  a  chair,  which  would  be 
contrary  to  the  "  Rules  of  the  House ;" 
and  I  couldn't  become  John  L.  Sulli 
van's  rival,  for  my  fighting-weight  was  too 
light. 

It  occurred  to  me  one  day  that  there  were  a 
good  many  solemn  people  in  the  world,  and 
none  too  many  men  who  made  a  business  of 
provoking  their  fellow-men  to  laugh.  If  I 
could  persuade  enough  people  to  listen  to  me, 
I  might  make  it  my  business  to  smile  for 
revenue.  Incidentally  I  might  do  some  good  ; 
for  if  I,  with  the  handicapping  I  was  enduring, 
could  smile  and  be  merry,  any  big  healthy 
fellow  ought  to  go  out  into  his  own  back  yard 
and  kick  himself  whenever  he  found  himself 
becoming  miserable. 

The  more  I  thought  over  this  plan,  the  better 
I  liked  it.  I  already  had  some  idea  of  how  to 
do  it,  for  I  had  "  tried  it  on  a  dog,"  as  the 
theatrical  people  say:  that  is,  I'd  told  a  great 
many  jokes  and  sung  dozens  of  funny  songs 
to  men  who  couldn't  laugh  much  easier  than 
George  Washington  could  tell  a  lie.  I'd 
learned  how  to  "size  up"  a  crowded  house., 
for  I  had  given  a  good  many  dramatic  entertajn-. 
ments  in  our  barn  (price  of  admission,  one  pin)^ 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.  5 

and  the  audience  was  generally  discriminating — 
and  mixed. 

So  I  went  into  the  "  humourous  entertain 
ment  "  business.  I  also  succeeded — so  other 
folks  say.  I  did  so  well  that  people  who  heard 
and  saw  me  always  put  on  their  most  cheerful 
faces  when  afterward  we  met ;  as  for  me,  no 
one  ever  heard  me  growl  or  grumble.  I've 
had  the  pleasure  of  meeting  many  of  the 
people  of  whom  the  world  talks  a  great  deal ; 
they  have  been  kind  enough  to  listen  to  me, 
chat  with  me,  smile  with  me,  and  otherwise 
treat  me  so  well  that  I  can't  help  talking 
about  them.  So  here  goes. 


CHAPTER   II. 

HENRY  WARD  BEECHER.— MRS.  BEECHER.— A  LONG  Hin 
OFT  CLIMBED.  —  Two  OLD  SUNDAY-SCHOOL  BOYS  IN 
COUNCIL. — A  FRIEND  FOR  LIFE. — HE  SEEMED  TO  KNOW 
EVERYTHING. — A  LOVE  SCENE  NOT  TO  BE  FOUND  IN 
NOVELS. 

WHEN  I  started  in  my  professional  career  as 
caterer  to  human  risibilities,  I  worked  for  noth 
ing  and  was  glad  of  the  chance,  for  oppor 
tunity  to  appear  and  become  known  was 
what  I  needed.  As  soon  as  I  dared,  however, 
I  began  to  charge  for  my  services.  My  first 
fee  was  fifty  cents,  but  it  made  a  great  differ 
ence  in  the  treatment  I  received,  and,  strange 
though  it  may  appear,  the  higher  my  fee,  the 
greater  is  the  courtesy  and  attention  I  receive. 
Why,  when  I  used  to  volunteer  to  recite  at  a 
church  entertainment,  I  would  be  the  last  per 
son  reached  by  the  strawberries  and  cream; 
but  now,  when  I  am  paid  almost  all  the  money 
received  at  the  door,  I  am  likely  to  be  the  first 
person  served.  People  care  most  for  what 
costs  them  most ;  I  know  how  it  is  myself. 

After  getting  a  good  deal  of   practice  in 

6 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.          7 

reciting  at  social  affairs,  and  having  acquired  a 
large  and  carefully  assorted  lot  of  humourous 
and  pathetic  songs  and  stories,  I  determined 
to  look  for  larger  and  more  profitable  audi 
ences.  To  get  them,  it  seemed  to  me  I  needed 
the  indorsement  of  some  prominent  people,  so 
I  started  in  search  of  it.  Any  man  of  the 
world,  or  of  ordinary  business  sense,  would 
have  nosed  around  among  his  acquaintances 
until  he  found  some  one  who  knew  somebody 
else  who  knew  somebody  in  particular,  and 
then  have  got  letters  from  one  to  another,— 
just  as  half  a  million  able-bodied  American 
citizens  who  want  office  have  been  approach 
ing  President  Harrison  during  the  past  few 
months.  But  I  was  as  "green"  as  I  was 
short ;  I  knew  no  way  but  the  straightest ;  and 
I  can't  say  now,  after  looking  back,  that  I'm 
a  bit  sorry  for  it. 

The  first  indorsement  I  went  for — and  also 
the  first  I  got — was  that  of  Henry  Ward 
Beecher.  He  was  prominent ;  his  opinion  of 
anyone  was  always  quoted ;  and  I  knew  from 
his  sermons  that  he  had  the  sort  of  heart  that 
would  sympathise  with  a  little  bit  of  a  fellow 
trying  to  handle  a  great  big  contract.  So  over 
to  Brooklyn  I  went,  and  climbed  Columbia 
Heights.  Oh,  that  climb!  It's  a  beautiful 


8  The  People  I've  Smiled  With: 

hill  when  you've  reached  the  top  of  it,  but  it 
isn't  the  sort  of  hill  that  I  should  design  with 
special  reference  to  the  legs  of  fellows  only 
three  or  four  feet  high.  I  consider  myself 
an  authority  on  Columbia  Heights,  for  I  had 
to  climb  it  more  than  half  a  dozen  times 
before  I  got  a  glance  at  Mr.  Beecher,  and 
another  half  a  dozen  before  I  came  to  know 
him  as  I  wanted  to.  Bless  the  great-hearted 
old  man !  To  once  more  see  his  face  break 
into  a  smile,  and  the  kindly  twinkle  come  into 
his  eyes,  I'd  go  up  that  steep  slope  a  dozen 
times  again,  and  do  it  on  my  knees  every  time. 

Well,  Mr.  Beecher's  door  was  slammed  in 
my  face  half  a  dozen  different  times.  The 
servants  couldn't  have  taken  me  for  a  burglar 
or  sneak-thief,  I  was  too  neatly  dressed  for  a 
beggar,  so  I  had  to  conclude  that  they  took 
me  for  a  book-agent.  That  wasn't  encourag 
ing,  though  some  book-agents  are  good  fellows. 
I  couldn't  understand  it ;  the  only  thing  I 
fully  comprehended  was  that  the  doorstep 
wasn't  specially  designed  for  a  tired  little 
fellow  to  rest  on. 

The  seventh  time  I  called,  Mrs.  Beecher 
chanced  to  open  the  door.  When  she  had 
looked  down  long  enough  to  find  who  it 
was  that  had  rung  the  bell,  she  smiled  a  little 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.          9 

and  asked  me  what  I  wanted.  "  I  want  to  see 
Mr.  Beecher,"  said  I ;  then,  paraphrasing  Gen 
eral  Grant's  historic  dispatch,  I  continued, 
"and  I'm  going  to  keep  on  coming  until  I  find 
him."  That  remark,  I  afterward  learned,  went 
right  to  the  heart  of  Mrs.  Beecher's  own  perse 
vering  Yankee  nature,  and  the  good  woman 
told  me  to  come  again,  when  I  should  see  her 
husband  if  he  were  at  home.  I  went ;  Mrs. 
Beecher  received  me,  and  called  back  to  her 
husband,  "  Papa,  here's  that  little  man  who 
wants  to  see  you." 

Mr.  Beecher  came  forward  ;  his  parlour  floor 
was  a  long  suite  of  rooms  with  his  study  in  the 
rear.  He  looked  as  solemn  and  sharp-eyed  as 
a  country  deacon  to  whom  a  stranger  is  trying 
to  sell  a  horse.  I  like  to  be  looked  at  that 
way,  though  ;  it  means  that  a  man  is  "  sizing 
me  up  ;  "  I  can  stand  it  as  long  as  he  can. 

"  Mr.  Beecher,"  said  I,  "  I'm  trying  to  make 
a  living  by  making  people  laugh." 

"  Well,"  said  he,  "  if  you  can  make  people 
merry,  you  deserve  all  you  can  make  out  of  it." 

"  I  can  do  it,"  said  I.  "  I'll  make  you  laugh 
if  you're  not  careful."  I  guess  he  wasn't  care 
ful,  for  his  face  suddenly  broke  up  like  a  cloud 
with  the  sun  jumping  through  it.  I  went  on : 
"  I  want  a  better  chance  than  I've  had,  and  I'd 


10  The  People  I've  Smiled  With  : 

like  to  let  myself  loose  before  your  Sunday- 
school.  I've  been  a  Sunday-school  boy,  and  I 
know  what  that  sort  of  fellow  likes." 

"  I've  been  one  myself,"  said  the  old  man. 
He  looked  dreamy  a  moment ;  then  he  began 
to  chuckle  and  shake  over  some  mischievous 
boyish  memory, — I  don't  know  what  it  was ; 
but  I  smiled  in  sympathy  with  him,  and  just 
then  his  eye  met  mine.  That  settled  it ;  I'd 
got  him.  That  isn't  all  either;  hed  got  me, 
not  only  for  the  remainder  of  his  life,  but  for 
all  that  might  be  left  of  mine. 

"Well,  little  chap,"  said  he,  "  I'm  not  mana 
ger  of  the  Sunday-school ;  you  go  and  talk  to 
the  superintendent.  I  guess  you're  able  to 
hoe  your  own  row." 

I  went,  and  the  following  Christmas  morn 
ing  I  was  called  by  telegraph  to  appear  before 
the  Sunday-school.  Mr.  Beecher  was  there, 
and  made  a  hit,  as  usual ;  but  boys  and  girls 
can  swallow  fun  as  fast  as  if  it  were  ice-cream, 
so  I  made  a  hit  too.  After  that  Mr.  Beecher 
gave  me  a  letter;  there  weren't  many  words 
in  it,  but  every  one  of  them  was  worth  a  heap 
of  money  to  me.  I  printed  the  letter  in  -my 
circular,  and  I  soon  found  myself  a  good  deal 
of  a  fellow  in  the  estimation  of  the  public. 
Engagements  began  to  crowd  upon  me,  and 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.        TI 

when  I  tried  to  lessen  the  number,  for  time's 
sake,  by  raising  my  prices,  I  found  that  money 
was  no  object  to  the  people  who  wanted  to 
see  me  and  smile  with  me. 

But  that  wasn't  all  the  dear  old  man  did 
for  me.  Always  after  that,  when  we  happened 
to  be  in  the  same  place,  he  looked  me  out  and 
took  pains  to  say  something  cheery  to  me. 
I've  got  head  and  heart  for  a  good  deal  out 
side  of  my  business,  and  when  I  think  of  that 
great  man,  courted  and  flattered  by  thousands, 
hated  and  envied  by  a  few,  carrying  in  his 
great  warm  heart  the  cares  and  sorrows  of 
hundreds  and  thousands  of  souls,  giving 
strength  to  the  weak  and  hope  to  the  wicked, 
and  all  the  time  having  a  great  battle  of  his 
own  to  fight, — when  I  think  of  all  this  and 
remember  that  he  yet  found  heart  and  time  to 
offer  cheery  companionship  to  a  little  fellow 
like  me,  I  have  a  very  clear  idea  about  the 
salt  of  the  earth. 

I  afterward  saw  a  great  deal  o'f  Mr.  Beecher 
when  he  was  in  England.  I  travelled  there 
with  him  at  times,  and  found  him  a  wonder 
ful  combination  of  greatness  and  goodness. 
There  seemed  nothing  of  interest  to  humanity 
or  in  the  world  about  which  he  hadn't  thought 
clearly,  and  with  a  conscience  in  first-class 


*2  The  People  I've  Smiled  With: 

working  order.  To  me — and  everybody  else 
who  met  him,  I  believe — he  was  books, 
newspapers,  and  a  whole  university  course 
beside. 

Several  years  ago  I  thought  I  would  like  to 
see  President  Cleveland,  but  I  didn't  want  to 
straggle  along  in  a  line  and  look  at  him  only 
about  a  second  ;  it  takes  a  little  fellow  like 
me  a  long  time  to  get  a  good  square  look  at 
a  President  of  the  United  States.  I  said  as 
much  to  Mr.  Beecher  one  day,  and  he  replied  : 

"  I  guess  that  can  be  managed,  young  fel 
low."  Then  he  sat  down  and  wrote  a  letter, 
of  which  more  anon. 

One  of  my  pleasantest  recollections  of  Mr. 
Beecher  has  its  scene  in  the  home  of  Rev.  Dr. 
Joseph  Parker,  of  London,  whose  guest  Mr. 
Beecher  was  for  a  time.  At  a  pleasant  little 
reception  given  by  Dr.  Parker  the  rooms  were 
so  crowded  that  Mr.  Beecher,  having  given  his 
seat  to  a  lady,  stood  beside  the  chair  in  which 
his  wife  sat.  Mrs.  T.  P.  O'Connor,  wife  of  a 
prominent  member  of  the  Home  Rule  party  in 
Parliament,  and  herself  a  most  brilliant  and 
charming  woman, — an  American  besides, — re 
cited  a  pathetic  Southern  story.  Tears  began 
to  gather  in  Mr.  Beecher's  eyes :  he  did  not 
want  to  make  a  spectacle  of  himself,  so  he 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.         13 

softly  stooped  until  he  sat  upon  the  floor.  The 
recitation  continued  ;  so  did  the  flow  of  tears ; 
at  last  the  old  man  hid  his  face  in  his  wife's 
lap  ;  the  old  lady  bent  over  him  and  stroked 
his  forehead ;  and  for  once  I  thanked  God  that 
I  was  very  short,  for  otherwise  I  might  not 
have  been  the  only  witness  of  this  true  love- 
passage  between  husband  and  wife.  After 
that,  any  one  who  told  me  that  love  was  only 
an  accident  of  youth  was  wasting  his  breath. 
I  wouldn't  have  missed  that  sight  for  all  the 
Romeos  and  Juliets  in  the  world.  I've  often 
swapped  jokes  with  Henry  Ward  Beecher ; 
we've  pressed  each  other  hard  in  laughing- 
matches  ;  he  has  been  a  great  help  to  me  in 
business  and  many  other  ways ;  but  dearer 
than  all  my  other  memories  of  him  is  that 
which  taught  me  that  true  love  is  eternal,  that 
gray  hairs  cannot  chill  it,  but,  on  the  contrary, 
that— 

"  Where  the  snow  lies  thickest  there's  nothing  can  freeze." 


CHAPTER  III. 

GENERAL  GRANT. — ONE  OF  His  PREDICTIONS  WHICH 
HASN'T  BEEN  FULFILLED. — WE  DROVE  TOGETHER 
THROUGH  CENTRAL  PARK. — I  SURRENDERED  UNCONDI 
TIONALLY. — THE  TRULY  GREAT  ARE  TRULY  GOOD. — HE 
COULD  NOT  EXULT  OVER  A  FALLEN  FOE. — HE  TEACHES 
A  MARE  TO  TROT. — BETTER  THAN  FUNNY. 

THE  human  face  is  a  good  indication  of 
character,  but  I've  often  found  that  while  it  is 
very  good  for  this  purpose,  it  amounts  only 
to  what  the  miners  call  "  surface  indications." 
It  tells  of  much  that  you  will  be  sure  to  find 
if  you  search  farther,  but  it  doesn't  inform  you 
of  a  great  many  things  which  you  are  sure  to 
stumble  over  sooner  or  later. 

The  foregoing  isn't  part  of  one  of  my  recita 
tions  ;  it  is  merely  a  reflection  or  two  that 
come  to  my  mind  as  I  think  of  General  Grant. 
I  had  heard  and  thought  a  great  deal  about 
him  while  he  was  General  and  President,  and, 
like  more  than  half  the  youngsters  in  the 
United  States,  I  thought  him  as  serious, 
solemn,  and  preoccupied  as  the  Sphinx  itself. 
I  hoped  that  some  day  I  might  see  him, — 
14 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little   Life.         15 

"  A  cat  may  look  at  a  king," — and  I  also 
hoped  that  when  that  day  should  come  he 
might  look  at  me,  if  only  for  an  instant ; 
though  I  expected  that  the  glance  would  be 
from  a  pair  of  cold,  steel-blue-gray  eyes,  with 
a  firm-set  mouth  a  little  way  beneath  them. 

Well,  one  day  I  went  with  my  father  to  a 
camp-meeting  at  Martha's  Vineyard,  where 
General  Grant  chanced  to  be  staying.  My 
father,  as  he  and  I  were  strolling  along  to 
gether,  stopped  suddenly  and  began  chatting 
with  a  rather  short,  stout,  modest-looking 
gentleman.  A  moment  or  two  later  my  father 
said : 

"  General  Grant,  allow  me  to  present  my 
son." 

Gracious !  you  could  have  knocked  me 
down  with  a  feather.  Really,  General  Grant  ? 
And  I  only  little  Marshall  Wilder  ?  I  felt  as 
if  I  were  shrinking  down  into  my  boots ;  but  I 
guess  I  wasn't ;  for  the  General  managed  to 
reach  my  head  without  stooping;  he  patted 
me  kindly,  and  said, 

"You'll  be  a  little  General  some  day,  my 
boy." 

I'm  not  anxious  to  have  his  prophecy  ful 
filled,  for  I've  too  much  respect  for  our  present 
major-generals,  brigadiers,  and  a  lot  of  other 


1 6  The  People  I've  Smiled  With: 

splendid  West  Pointers  I  know.  Besides,  I'm 
otherwise  engaged  ;  I'd  rather  half  kill  a  man 
with  a  joke  than  with  a  bullet  ;  nevertheless 
the  military  dreams  I  indulged  in  that  night 
would  have  knocked  Napoleon  silly, — that's 
about  the  size  of  it, — and  they'd  paralyze 
Moltke,  Sir  Garnet  Wolseley,  and  General 
Schofield  if  I  could  repeat  them  to-day. 

I  didn't  expect  ever  to  meet  General  Grant 
again,  or  to  presume  upon  a  casual  introduc 
tion,  such  as  men  as  prominent  as  Grant  have 
to  endure  fifty  or  a  hundred  times  a  day.  I 
could  not  imagine  that  he  would  remember  me 
if  ever  we  chanced  to  meet  again.  But  one  day, 
while  I  was  standing  at  the  corner  of  Seventh 
Avenue  and  Fifty-ninth  Street,  who  should 
chance  to  step  from  a  Belt  Line  horse-car  but 
General  Grant.  Again  I  felt  smaller  than  my 
very  small  self,  but  I  remembered  that  I  was  an 
American  citizen,  so  I  braced  up  and  said: 

"  Good-morning,  General." 

"Why,  good-morning,  my  little  man,"  said 
he.  "  How  are  you  feeling  this  morning  ?  " 

"Tip-top,"  I  replied,  "I  was  just  going  to 
take  a  run  in  the  Park." 

He  threw  a  pleasant  wink  down  to  me  and 
said : 

"  How  would  it  do  to  have  a  horse  do  the 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.         I7 

running,  and  you  sit  behind  him?"  Then  he 
turned  to  one  of  the  Park  cabmen  and  said  : 
"  I  want  you  to  take  my  friend  and  me  around 
the  Park." 

Away  we  went.  Good  air  and  distinguished 
company  made  me  feel  merrier  than  usual,  and 
I  let  off  a  joke  or  two  ;  the  General  "  saw  " 
me  and  went  me  one  or  two  better.  We  kept 
up  a  good-natured  fight  of  that  kind  all  the 
way  through  the  Park  and  back  again  ;  I 
worked  my  biggest  guns  and  used  up  all  my 
ammunition,  but  in  the  end  I  found  myself  on 
the  list  with  General  Pemberton,  General  Lee, 
and  a  lot  of  other  good  fellows, — I'd  had  to  sur 
render  unconditionally.  Nobody  need  talk  to 
me  about  Grant  being  "  the  silent  man."  And 
what  a  big,  honest  smile  he  had!  I've  one 
myself,  I  think,  but  I  wish  he  could  have  left 
me  his  in  his  will.  The  idea  of  a  man  who 
had  handled  a  dozen  armies,  carried  a  nation 
on  his  shoulders  through  four  years  of  fighting 
in  the  field  and  eight  years  more  in  Washing 
ton,  giving  an  hour  or  more  of  his  time  and 
attention  to  a  little  chap  whom  he  chanced  to 
meet  on  a  street  corner,  while  a  score  of  mil- 
lionnaires  would  almost  have  given  their  heads 
to  be  in  my  place  beside  him !  As  we  rode 
along,  hundreds  of  people  recognized  him  and 


1 8  The  People  I've  Smiled  With: 

raised  their  hats  to  him,  but  he  returned  their 
salutes  as  modestly  as  if  he  was  nobody  in 
particular. 

But  he  was  that  sort  of  man.  He  never 
seemed  to  exult  in  conquering  men,  though 
that  had  been  his  most  successful  work  in  life. 
General  Horace  Porter  told  me  that,  after  the 
surrender  of  Lee,  Grant  said :  *'  I  must  get  off 
for  Washington  to-morrow."  "  Why,"  said 
Porter,  "you  haven't  yet  looked  at  the  troops 
you  have  conquered."  "  No,"  replied  Grant, 
"  and  I  won't ;  they  feel  bad  enough  already.'* 
General  Porter  said  also  that  the  reason  Grant 
allowed  the  officers  of  the  Army  of  Northern 
Virginia  to  retain  their  side-arms  after  the 
surrender  was  that  he  saw  Lee  carried  a  mag 
nificent  diamond-studded  sword  given  him  by 
the  State  of  Virginia,  and  he  hadn't  the  heart 
to  deprive  him  of  it. 

When  it  came  to  horses,  however,  Grant  not 
only  liked  to  conquer  them,  but  to  exult  about 
it  afterward.  My  friend  Ned  Stokes,  proprietor 
of  the  Hoffman  House,  with  whom  I  have  often 
smiled  (though  not  at  his  gorgeous  bar),  told 
me  that  one  day  when  Grant  was  his  guest 
Robert  Bonner  said  to  him,  at  the  Hoffman, 
"  Stokes,  bring  Grant  over  to  my  place  to 
morrow,  and  I'll  have  Budd  Doble  drive  Dexter 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.        19 

a  specimen  mile  for  him."  So  over  they 
went,  and  Dexter  did  a  mile  beautifully. 
Then  a  handsome  gray  mare  named  Peer 
less  was  brought  out  and  sent  around  the 
track  in  handsome  style.  She  seemed  to  go 
like  a  streak  of  lightning  with  a  pack  of  fire 
crackers  at  its  tail,  but  Grant  remarked  : 

"  I  believe  I  could  make  the  mare  beat  that 
time,  if  Mr.  Boiiner  would  let  me." 

"  Certainly,"  said  Mr.  Bonner  pleasantly,  but 
with  a  "  Young-man-you-don't-know-as-much- 
as-you-think-you-do "  look.  Grant  took  the 
ribbons  and  asked  Stokes  to  take  the  time. 
"  Go  ! "  shouted  Bonner.  Whiz  !  went  the 
mare,  Grant  "  lifting  "  her  a  little. 

"  Well  ?  "  said  the  General,  after  completing 
the  mile. 

"There  is  the  watch,"  replied  Stokes,  and 
the  party  saw  that,  with  Grant  to  manage  her, 
Peerless  had  beaten  her  previous  time  by  one 
second.  Stokes  was  amazed  ;  Bonner  was  more 
so  ;  but  Grant — why,  he  crowed  all  day  long 
over  that  exploit,  and  told  of  it  to  every 
acquaintance  he  met ! 

As  I  said  before,  there's  more  to  a  man — 
who  is  a  man — than  shows  in  his  face  ;  no  face 
is  big  enough  to  hold  it  all.  I've  seen  all  the 
portraits  and  busts  of  Grant ;  I  look  at  them 


20  The  People  I've  Smiled  With, 

reverently  and  loyally,  in  memory  of  the  man's 
great  achievements  ;  but,  after  all,  human  na 
ture  is  human  nature,  and  my  mind  always 
goes  back  to  the  day  when  he  put  off  what 
ever  he  was  about  to  do,  and  took  little  me  for 
an  hour's  drive  in  the  Park.  The  busts  and 
pictures  are  all  serious  and  grand,  as  they 
ought  to  be,  but  for  the  life  of  me  I  can't  help 
seeing  a  broad,  honest  smile  come  over  each  of 
them  when  I've  looked  at  it  a  minute. 

Just  one  more  story  about  him.  During 
pur  ride  I  said  to  him  that  it  must  seem  funny, 
after  so  active  a  life,  for  him  to  be  living  so 
quietly.  He  replied : 

"It's  a  thousand  times  better  than  funny,  my 
boy :  it's  rest." 

And  from  the  expression  of  his  face  I  knew 
he  meant  more  than  words  could  say. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

EX-PRESIDENT  CLEVELAND. — I  VISIT  THE  WHITE  HOUSE.— • 
THE  LAST  SHALL  BE  FIRST. — THE  MAGIC  OF  A  LETTER. — 
A  WONDERFUL  MAN  AT  DISPATCHING  BUSINESS. — MRS. 
CLEVELAND. 

ABOUT  three  years  ago  I  went  to  Washing 
ton  for  the  first  time.  It  may  have  been  rough 
on  Washington  society  that  I  had  not  been 
there  before,  but  'twas  rough  on  me,  too, — so 
condolences  are  mutual.  I  went  there  to  give 
some  drawing-room  entertainments,  but  as  it 
was  my  first  visit  to  the  Capital,  I  determined 
to  see  something  and  somebody  out  of  the 
way  of  business. 

The  first  call  I  made  was  at  the  White 
House.  A  man  at  the  door  stopped  me— 
for  I  was  walking  boldly  in,  as  if  I  belonged 
there. 

"  What  do  you  want  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  I'd  like  to  see  President  Cleveland,"  I  re 
plied. 

"  Then  go  right  up-stairs  and  turn  to  the 
right,"  said  he. 

This  sounded  businesslike  and  encouraging, 
21 


22  The  People  I've  Smiled  With: 

but  when  I  reached  the  head  of  the  stair 
I  was  stopped  by  another  Cerberus  who 
asked  : 

"  What  do  you  want  ?  ' 

"  President  Cleveland,"  I  gasped ;  flights 
of  stairs  never  have  any  pity  on  my  short  legs. 

"  Step  right  into  that  room,"  said  he, 
pointing  to  a  doorway.  I  entered,  getting 
my  best  Sunday  smile  ready  for  the  President, 
but  instead  of  Mr.  Cleveland  I  found  twenty 
or  thirty  other  American  citizens  who  were 
on  the  same  errand  as  I.  They  didn't  seem 
pleased,  either,  to  see  an  addition,  small  though 
he  was,  to  the  crowd.  Some  senators  were 
there ;  also  some  representatives,  and  a  lot  of 
possible  future  Presidents,  yet  it  was  only  the 
beginning  of  the  day.  It  didn't  take  me  long 
to  make  up  my  mind  that  I  never  would  allow 
either  party  to  run  me  for  the  Presidency,  if 
business  had  to  begin  so  early  in  the  morning, 
and  in  such  earnest.  I  also  made  up  my  mind 
that  I  was  in  for  a  long  wait,  and  I  couldn't 
see  anything  lying  about  for  a  man  to  amuse 
himself  with. 

It  occurred  to  me  that  if  I  were  to  send  in 
my  letter  from  Mr.  Beecher  it  might  prepare 
the  way  for  me,  so  I  said  to  one  of  the  coloured 
attendants: 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.          23 

"  Take  this  in,  will  you  ?  I'll  await  my 
turn." 

The  letter  read  as  follows  : 

DECEMBER  24,  1886. 
PRESIDENT  GROVER  CLEVELAND  : 

DEAR  SIR  :  Marshall  P.  Wilder  desires  an 
introduction  to  you,  and  since  in  his  English 
career  he  has  been  received  by  the  Prince  of 
Wales,  and  is  a  favourite  with  nobles  and  com 
moners  of  high  degree,  he  will  feel  honoured  if 
you  will  receive  him  kindly.  He  asks  nothing 
but  the  privilege  of  conferring  pleasure.  His 
entertainments  are  highly  laughter-provoking 
and  of  an  original  character.  He  deserves 
great  credit  for  making  a  brave  struggle  against 
difficulties  that  would  have  appalled  others. 
He  is  a  most  worthy  and  respectable  person, 
and  his  efforts  in  my  church  on  sundry  occa 
sions  have  given  very  great  amusement  both 
to  the  children  and  to  the  grown  folks. 

Yours  sincerely, 

HENRY  WARD  BEECHER. 

In  a  very  few  minutes  an  attendant  came 
out  and  said  :  "  Will  Mr.  Wilder  please  step 
forward  ?  "  I  stepped.  I  forgive  the  other 
fellows  for  the  scowls  they  gave  me,  for  it 
must  have  been  provoking  to  see  the  last  go 
first — and  such  a  little  one.  I  could  see  some 


24  The  People  I've  Smiled  With  : 

of  them  asking  one  another  with  their  eyes, 
"  Who  is  he  ?  "  and  some  of  them  looked  as  if 
they  were  thinking,  "  Well,  it's  not  always  size 
that  makes  the  man.'* 

Mr.  Cleveland  met  me  very  kindly,  and 
asked : 

"  What  can  I  do  for  you,  Mr.  Wilder  ?  " 

Poor  man  !  I  suppose  he  was  so  used  to 
men  who  called  only  to  ask  favours  that  he  took 
it  as  a  matter  of  course  that  somewhere  about 
my  clothes  I  had  an  axe  to  grind.  So  I  made 
haste  to  reply : 

"  Nothing  at  all,  Mr.  President,  except  the 
pleasure  of  shaking  hands  with  you.  I  didn't 
vote  for  you,  but  that  doesn't  seem  to  have 
made  any  difference." 

Two  gentlemen  who  were  present,  I  after 
ward  learned,  were  Cabinet  officers,  so  there 
must  have  been  business  on  hand  ;  neverthe 
less  the  President  kindly  said  : 

"  Sit  down.  Tell  me  something  about  your^ 
self.  What  are  you  doing  down  here  ?  " 

I  dropped  into  a  chair,  and  Mr.  Cleveland 
chatted  pleasantly  with  me  for  a  while ;  then 
he  looked  at  Mr.  Beecher's  note  and  said  : 

"  Mr.  Wilder,  this  is  a  very  valuable  letter. 
Hadn't  you  better  keep  it  ?  " 

Bless  the  man  !     I  wonder  how  many  others 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.        25 
i 

in  his  position  would  have  been  so  thoughtful. 
I  quickly  thanked  him,  and  told  him  nothing  he 
ever  had  said  would  be  more  heartily  appre 
ciated,  for,  while  the  letter  would  have  been 
of  no  use  to  him,  it  was  extremely  valuable  to 
me.  But  that  wasn't  all  he  did;  he  was  kind 
enough  to  invite  me  to  call  on  him  and  his 
wife  the  next  day.  I  don't  suppose  I  can  add 
anything  to  the  praises  which  cleverer  pens 
than  mine  have  written  of  Mrs.  Cleveland  ;  she 
has  been  glorified  by  men  of  all  classes,  and  of 
styles  differing — well,  from  General  Sherman's 
to  Tim  Campbell's.  I  simply  wish  to  indorse 
everything  good  that  every  one  has  said  of 
her,  and  wish  also  that  I  could  re-arrange  an 
unabridged  dictionary  so  that  all  the  words 
would  speak  her  praise. 

Mr.  Cleveland's  faculty  for  seeing  people  in 
rapid  succession,  yet  getting  rid  of  them  with 
out  offending  any  one,  amazed  me.  I  know 
some  business  men  who  are  noted  throughout 
the  United  States  for  being  "  rustlers  "  in  man 
aging  human  nature  ;  I've  stood  in  their  offices 
and  admired  their  tact,  but  I  never  saw  any  of 
them  dispatch  business  so  rapidly  as  Mr.  Cleve 
land.  I  was  in  the  crowd  one  day,  and  pur 
posely  kept  among  the  latest  comers,  just  to 
see  how  he  would  dispatch  people — no  other 


26  The  People  I've  Smiled  With  : 

word  expresses  the  operation,  yet  none  seemed 
to  go  away  feeling  hurt.  I  finally  dropped 
into  a  brown  study  over  it,  wondering  how  it 
was  done,  when  suddenly  I  heard,  "  How  are 
you  to-day,  Mr.  Wilder  ?  "  and  looking  up,  I 
saw  the  President's  face  beaming  on  me  as 
pleasantly  as  if  all  his  work  had  been  mere  fun, 
and  as  if  he  had  nothing  else  to  do  for  the 
day. 

I  afterward  went  to  a  "swell"  reception  at  the 
White  House,  in  company  with  my  friends 
Moses  P.  Handy,  of  the  Philadelphia  Clover 
Club,  and  the  late  W.  F.  O'Brien.  There  were 
any  number  of  gorgeous  diplomats  present, 
with  epauletted  and  gold-laced  officers  of  our 
own,  ladies  in  wonderful  costumes,  and  all  push 
ing  their  way  to  the  famous  "  Blue  Room," 
where  beside  his  handsome  wife  stood  the 
President,  looking  as  dignified  and  distin 
guished  as  any  good  citizen  could  ask ;  but  I 
like  best  to  remember  him  in  every-day  dress, 
receiving  every  one  who  came  and  trying  to  do 
the  fair  thing  by  everyone.  I  was  so  impressed 
that  I  wanted  to  do  something  real  nice  for 
him — something  that  no  one  else  had  done,  so 
I  left  Washington  without  giving  him  a  bit  of 
advice  about  how  to  run  the  Government.  I 
hope  he  was  duly  grateful. 


CHAPTER  V. 

MR.  ELAINE. — A  JOLLY  GOOD  FELLOW. — No  AIRS  ABOUT 
HIM. — A  CAPITAL  STORY-TELLER. — QUITE  AS  SENSITIVE 
AS  OTHER  MEN. — A  SYMPATHETIC  LISTENER. — MRS. 
ELAINE. — A  PEEP  BEHIND  THE  SCENES. — IT  MIGHT  HAVE 
BEEN  A  HONEYMOON  TRIP. 

WHILE  I  was  at  Washington  I  was  "  taken 
around,"  by  some  dear  old  friends  who  wanted 
me  to  be  acquainted  with  some  of  the  "  big  " 
men,  and  also  wanted  them  to  be  acquainted 
with  a  little  man.  Nowhere  else  in  the  world 
have  I  been  more  kindly  treated ;  nowhere 
have  I  found  it  harder  to  get  out  of,a  house 
where  I  had  just  dropped  in.  How  other 
callers  managed  to  stay  so  short  a  time  as  some 
did  was  a  mystery  to  me.  Perhaps  short  calls 
are  as  easy  as  running  the  government  or 
making  a  fortune — when  one  is  used  to  it,  but  it 
did  seem  very  odd  to  me,  to  see  a  well-dressed, 
intelligent  couple,  whom  I  knew  at  sight  would 
be  charming  company,  call  on  a  lady  equally 
intelligent  and  charming,  and  then  hear  a  con 
versation  something  like  this : 

"  Good-morning." 

27 


28  The  People  I've  Smiled  With: 

"  Oh,  how  do  you  do  ;  I'm  so  glad  to  see 
you." 

"  Thank  you.     Isn't  it  lovely  weather  ?  " 

"  Indeed,  yes.     How  well  you  are  looking!" 

"  So  kind  of  you  to  say  so.  (Rising.)  Do  come 
and  see  me." 

"Oh,  you're  not  going?  I've  enjoyed  your 
call  so  much.  Good-morning." 

"  (900^-morning." 

They  have  to  do  it  in  this  way  a  great  deal 
of  the  time,  during  the  season.  There  are  so 
many  people  in  town  whom  one  wants  to  see, 
and  must  see,  that  there's  no  way  of  doing  all 
except  by  making  five-minute  calls,  and  dash 
ing  madly  in  a  carnage  from  place  to  place. 
I've  heard  some  society  fellows  in  New  York 
boast  of  the  number  of  calls  they'd  made  on  a 
single  New  Year's  day,  but  a  day  or  two  in 
Washington  society  would  take  the  conceit 
out  of  them.  And  Washington  people — those 
who  belong  there — do  it  so  easily,  too  ;  they 
enter  a  drawing-room  in  as  leisurely  a  way  as 
if  they'd  come  to  spend  the  day  in  old-style 
back-country  fashion,  and  go  to  prayer-meeting 
with  the  family  afterward.  They  depart  in  the 
same  deliberate,  well-bred  manner;  you'd  sup 
pose,  to  look  at  them,  that  they  were  wonder 
ing  how  and  where  to  kill  a  couple  of  hours  of 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.     29 

time,  instead  of  squeezing  twenty  or  thirty 
calls  into  it. 

One  of  the  most  interesting  men  in  Wash 
ington  is  Mr.  Blaine.  I've  seen  a  great  deal 
of  him,  and  the  more  I  meet  him,  the  oftener 
I  want  to  meet  him  again.  He  has  a  way  of 
making  a  fellow  feel  entirely  at  ease  with  him 
which  is  wonderfully  pleasant — if  you  chance 
yourself  to  be  the  fellow.  He  takes  your 
hand — if  he  likes  you — in  a  way  that  makes 
you  feel  that  you're  his  long-lost  friend,  and 
he  chats  with  you  as  freely  and  merrily  as  if 
he  hadn't  a  thing  to  do  or  think  of  but  make 
himself  agreeable. 

And  how  he  can  tell  stories !  Lots  of  other 
men  do  it,  but  after  a  while  you  begin  to  think 
they've  been  out  nutting,  and  found  all  the 
chestnuts.  Not  that  I  object  to  chestnuts ; 
I've  gathered  some  myself  in  my  time,  and 
found  that  people  enjoyed  them,  when  prop 
erly  served.  Mr.  Blaine  enjoys  them  himself, 
apparently,  for  I've  seen  him  listen  to  the  same 
story  four  or  five  times  in  as  many  days,  and 
laugh  heartily  each  time.  And  how  he  can 
laugh  !  Should  he  ever  go  into  the  entertain 
ment  business  he'd  knock  out  all  the  rest  of 
us. 

I  first  met  Mr.  Blaine  on  shipboard.     One 


30  The  Pwple  I've  Smiled  With: 

day  when  the  sea  was  running  high,  and  the 
wind  on  deck  went  through  a  man  like  a  piece 
of  bad-news,  the  captain  invited  several  of  us 
into  his  cabin ;  beside  your  humble  servant 
there  were  Mr.  Scott  Cassatt,  Mr.  T.  C.  Craw 
ford  the  well-known  journalist,  the  Earl  of 
Donoughmore,  and  Mr.  Elaine.  Chat  soon  be 
came  general,  and  everything  reminded  Mr. 
Elaine  of  a  story.  The  Earl  had  been  travelling 
on  state  business,  and  having  dispatches  chase 
him  from  place  to  place  without  finding  him, 
which  reminded  Mr.  Elaine  of  an  army  officer 
who  graduated  at  West  Point  before  the  days 
of  the  Pacific  Mail  Steamship  line.  Immedi 
ately  after  graduating  he  was  assigned  to  the 
Fourth  Infantry,  stationed  at  San  Francisco, 
and  set  out  for  his  post  via  Cape  Horn.  It  took 
exactly  nine  months  to  make  the  journey.  He 
was  a  very  bad  sailor,  and  was  very  sick  all  the 
way  around.  When  he  reached  San  Francisco 
he  found  there  was  a  mistake  in  his  order,  and 
he  should  have  been  assigned  to  the  Fifth 
Regiment,  stationed  at  Fort  Mackinaw,  Michi 
gan.  This  information  was  brought  by  .the 
pony  express,  then  just  established,  so  he 
had  to  come  back  again  and  undergo  another 
nine  months'  stretch  of  horrible  seasickness. 
He  finally  reached  Fort  Mackinaw,  but  after  a 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.          31 

week's  stay  the  Fifth  Regiment  was  ordered  to 
change  places  with  the  Fourth,  and  he  had  to 
go  back  to  San  Francisco.  As  he  was  starting 
on  his  third  voyage  he  said  to  a  friend  :  "  My 
father  gave  me  a  choice  between  the  army  and 
the  navy,  and  I  foolishly  selected  the  army. 
If  I  had  selected  the  navy  I  am  sure  I  would 
have  had  a  much  better  chance  of  remaining 
on  land." 

Some  one  told  of  a  friend  of  his  who  trav 
elled  a  great  deal,  but  hadn't  the  faculty  of  see 
ing  things  ;  indeed,  he  seemed  to  prefer  not 
to  see  them. 

"  A  good  deal  like  an  English  lord  I've 
heard  of,"  said  Mr.  Elaine.  "  On  reaching  a 
certain  town  in  Germany  he  asked  his  courier 
what  there  was  to  see.  *  Nothing  whatever, 
my  lord;  absolutely  nothing.'  '  Then,'  said 
his  lordship,  looking  quite  happy,  'we'll  stay 
here  a  month.' ' 

Some  of  us  were  talking  of  men  who  never  did 
anything  for  their  fellow-men,  and  Mr.  Elaine 
asked  if  we  weren't  a  little  too  hard  on  them. 
u  If  a  fellow  will  be  true  to  himself,"  said  he, 
"  he  may  do  a  great  deal  of  good  unawares, 
and  nobody  will  ever  know  of  it.  Why,  there's 
a  friend  of  mine  in  Maine,  a  veteran  of  the 
Mexican  war,  who  once  went  up  to  old  Colonel 


32  The  People  I've  Smiled  With: 

and  said  to  him,  '  Colonel,  I  owe  you  more 

than  I  ever  can  repay.  In  the  Mexican  war  you 
saved  my  life  three  different  times/  The  Col 
onel  was  somewhat  astonished,  for  he  couldn't 
recall  a  single  incident  of  the  kind,  so  he  asked 
the  fellow  to  explain.  '  Why/  was  the  reply, 
'  I  always  kept  my  eye  on  you  during  an  en 
gagement  ;  whenever  you  started  to  run,  I  ran 
too,  and  three  times  your  example  saved  my 
precious  life.' ' 

During  conversation  about  the  Irish  race, 
the  religious  Irishman's  persistent  thought 
about  the  great  hereafter  was  alluded  to. 
"Yes,"  said  Mr.  Elaine,  "and  there's  good 
reason  for  it.  The  Irish  people  have  such 
infernal  torments  at  home  that  they  can't  be 
blamed  for  wanting  to  avoid  any  in  the  next 
world.  If  they  could  believe  there  was  no  hell 
they'd  rather  die  than  live.  Once  at  Dublin, 
toward  the  end  of  the  opera,  Satan  was  con 
ducting  Faust  through  the  trap-door  which 
represented  the  gates  of  Hades.  His  majesty 
got  through  all  right — he  was  used  to  going 
below,  but  Faust,  who  was  quite  stout,  got 
only  about  half-way  in,  and  no  squeezing 
would  get  him  any  farther.  Suddenly  an 
Irishman  in  the  gallery  exclaimed  devoutly, 
'Thank  God,  hell  is  full!'  " 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.         33 

Because  he  has  been  a  public  man  and  poli 
tician  a  great  many  years,  Mr.  Elaine  is  sup* 
posed  by  some  people  to  be  very  thick-skinned, 
but  it  is  impossible  to  be  with  him  a  little 
while  without  seeing  that  he  is  nothing  of  the 
sort.  He  is  quite  as  sensitive  as  any  other  gen 
tleman,  and  dny  rude  remark  grates  unpleas 
antly  upon  him,  even  if  it  has  no  personal  ap 
plication.  The  only  time  I  ever  heard  him 
speak  of  himself  was  one  day  when  he  brought 
me  a  caricature  of  myself  which  some  one 
aboard  ship  had  drawn.  "  There,  Marshall," 
said  he,  "  how  do  you  like  that  ?  "  "  Great 
Scott !  "  I  exclaimed,  making  a  face  at  the 
picture, "  does  that  look  like  me  ?  "  "  Well," 
said  he,  "  that's  exactly  the  question  I  ask  my 
self  when  the  illustrated  papers  caricature  me." 

I've  heard  people  call  Mrs.  Blaine  "cold," 
but  I  saw  for  myself  that  the  only  reason  for 
it  was  that  she  was  so  devoted  to  her  husband 
that  she  had  no  time  for  more  than  ordinary 
civility  to  any  one  else.  She  hovered  about 
Mr.  Blaine  as  tenderly  as  if  she  were  his  mother 
and  he  was  her  pet  child.  She  seemed  to  an 
ticipate  his  every  want,  and  in  this  respect  her 
daughters  were  just  like  her. 

It  was  great  fun  to  me  to  see  Mr.  Blaine 
among  the  passengers,  telling  good  stories,  lis- 


34  The  People  I've  Smiled  With. 

tening  genially  to  everybody,  and  laughing 
more  heartily  than  any  one  else.  I  think  I 
smiled  just  as  long,  however,  and  with  a  very 
warm  heart,  more  than  one  night,  when,  creep 
ing  on  the  lonely  deck  for  a  "  nightcap "  in 
the  shape  of  a  mouthful  of  fresh  air,  I  saw  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Elaine  side  by  side,  with  one  shawl 
around  both  of  them,  softly  chatting  and  doz 
ing,  like  a  newly  married  couple  on  a  wedding 
trip.  A  great  man's  private  life  is  his  own, 
no  matter  how  much  he  belongs  to  the  public ; 
no  one  has  any  right  to  peep  behind  the  cur 
tain;  but  an  accidental  view,  such  as  I've  just 
mentioned,  certainly  does  the  beholder  a  great 
deal  of  good,  if  only  by  reminding  him  that 
public  men  have  hearts  quite  as  big  as  their 
fellows — often  bigger. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

GOING  ABROAD. — A  FORLORN  HOPE. — MY  OWN  PRIVATE 
STORY. — THE  PRINCE  OF  WALES. — EVERY  INCH  A  PRINCE, 
AND  THE  PRINCE  OF  GOOD  FELLOWS  BESIDE. — His  COUR 
TESY,  THOUGHTFULNESS,  TACT,  AND  KINDNESS. — WHY 
THE  ENGLISH  LIKE  HIM. — ENGLISH  MANNERS  IN  THE 
PRINCE'S  PRESENCE. — ONE  YANKEE  WHO  SWEARS  BY  HIM. 

AFTER  I  had  been  in  the  entertainment 
business  a  few  years4,  it  occurred  to  me  that  I 
might  give  my  friends  a  rest  and  get  a  change 
for  myself  by  going  abroad.  I  might  make 
some  money  beside.  English  people  like  ex 
tremes  as  well  as  others*  A  number  of  our 
greatest  men  had  been  well  received  over 
there  ;  so  might  not  there  be  a  chance  for  one 
of  our  smallest  ? 

So  I  went.  I  landed  there  an  entire  stranger 
and  without  much  money.  I  expected  up-hill 
work,  but  I've  a  tremendous  faith  in  a  man 
"getting  there  "  if  he'll  do  his  level  best ;  he's 
sure  to  have  something  unexpected  turn  up  to 
his  advantage.  A  "forlorn  hope"  almost  al 
ways  achieves  a  brilliant  success,  partly  through 
itself,  and  partly  through  something  it  didn't 
35 


36  The  People  I've  Smiled  With: 

expect.    I  always,  when  I  have  to  4<  nerve  up," 
repeat  to  myself  the  following  story  : 

Old  Jim  Peters  was  a  famous  bear-hunter 
in  the  Adirondacks.  Both  his  ears  and  his 
nose  were  clawecj  off  in  bear-fights.  When  he 
drank  too  much  he  wanted  to  fight,  and  if  there 
were  no  bears  in  sight  he  would  fight  with  the 
first  man  he  met.  Jim  had  a  pretty  daughter. 
A  young  shingle-cutter  used  to  come  to  see  her. 
The  old  man  met  him  one  night  and  was  going 
to  whip  him,  but  the  youngster  was  so  small 
that  it  seemed  mean  to  strike  him,  so  instead  of 
beating  him  the  old  man  said,  "  Don't  you  ever 
come  fooling  around  my  daughter  again  till 
you  bring  me  a  bear,  and  a  live  one  at  that." 
The  young  man  was  rather  appalled  at  the  out 
look,  but  he  made  up  his  mind  that  he  must  have 
the  girl.  The  ground  was  covered  with  deep 
snow,  on  which  the  rain  had  fallen  and  frozen 
till  it  was  very  slippery.  The  hunter's  cabin  was 
right  at  the  bottom  of  a  steep  hill.  As  the 
shingle-cutter  reached  the  top  of  the  ridge,  a 
bear  jumped  from  a  rock  and  grabbed  him  in 
his  embrace.  In  the  struggle  the  bear  lost  his 
footing  and  fell,  with  the  youngster  on  top. 
Out  they  shot  on  the  ice  and  slipped  down  the 
hill,  going  like  a  double-ripper  on  a  toboggan 
slide.  The  young  shingle-cutter  put  his  foot 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.          37 

out  behind  and  made  a  splendid  steer  for  the 
cabin.  The  couple  struck  the  logs  in  the  side 
of  the  cabin  like  a  freight  train  on  a  down 
grade,  stunning  the  bear.  The  door  flew  open, 
and  out  flew  old  Jimmie  to  see  what  was  the 
matter.  "  There,"  said  the  shingle-cutter, 
"  there's  the  bear — and  a  live  one  too."  He 
got  the  girl. 

Well,  I  was  in  London  some  time  without 
getting  an  engagement.  One  day  I  met  my 
good  friend  Perugini,  the  popular  tenor — in 
spite  of  his  Italian  name  he  is  a  big-hearted 
American,  and  I  told  him  how  my  luck  was 
succeeding  in  dodging  me.  "  Why  don't  you 
go  to  the  Lyric  Club,"  said  he,  "  and  speak  a 
little  piece  ?  Then  people  will  know  some 
thing  about  you.  I'll  send  you  a  card  of  in 
vitation."  He  kept  his  word  ;  I  went  to  the 
Lyric  Club — of  which  more  hereafter — spoke  a 
piece,  and  was  asked  for  several  more.  They 
took  so  well  that  through  the  Club  my  name 
was  put  on  the  list  of  speakers  at  an  entertain 
ment  given  for  the  Gordon  Home  for  Boys. 
It  was  to  be  given  at  the  Grosvenor  Hall,  and 
the  Prince  of  Wales  and  the  Princess,  with 
their  sons  and  daughters,  were  to  be  present, 
together  with  the  most  brilliant  assemblage  in 
London.  The  Baroness  Burdett-Coutts,  Lord 


38  The  People  I've  Smiled  With  : 

Randolph  Churchill,  and  everybody  was  to  be 
there,  simply  because  the  entertainment  was 
for  a  charitable  purpose. 

My  invitation  was  as  follows : 


meet 


tne  nonok  o/  tne  com/tanu  &/ 
v  /ft/ 


I  knew  this  was  the  most  important  point  of 
my  English  career,  because  if  I  succeeded  in 
pleasing  the  Prince  of  Wales  my  fortune  would 
be  made,  but  if  I  failed  there  would  be  no  use 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.         39 

in  my  remaining  abroad.  One  doesn't  want  to 
be  long  in  England  to  find  out  that  the  opin 
ion  of  the  Prince  about  any  one  or  any  thing 
has  almost  the  force  of  law. 

I  sat  down  and  thought  it  all  over.  I  hoped 
his  Royal  Highness  would  be  feeling  well, 
because  I  knew  that  if  he  was  out  of  sorts  in 
any  way  it  would  be  a  very  hard  task  to  enter 
tain  him ;  royalty  is  also  humanity  in  this 
respect.  If  you  have  ever  had  a  Turkish  bath 
I  think  you  will  know  how  I  felt  for  about  a 
week  before  the  entertainment.  The  Prince 
had  heard  of  me,  and  my  name  was  presented 
to  his  highness  by  the  committee  from  the 
Lyric  Club,  so  that  by  his  command  I  was 
allowed  to  appear.  This  is  the  way  things  are 
always  done  over  there.  Lists  are  submitted 
to  him,  and  he  uses  his  preference. 

That  night,  after  I  reached  the  hall  and  was 
waiting  for  my  turn  to  "  go  on,"  I  peeped 
through  the  curtains  at  the  Prince.  I  saw  a 
pleasant-faced  gentleman  with  a  kind  light  in 
his  eyes.  I  noticed  that  while  many  of  the 
courtiers  about  him  were  full  of  the  English 
coldness  that  you  may  have  heard  of,  the  Prince 
himself  was  unaffected  and  cordial  in  manner, 
and  when  I  saw  how  kind  the  Princess  appeared, 
and  how  appreciative  of  the  people  who 


40  The  People  I've  Smiled  With: 

appeared  before  my  "  number "  came,  I  felt 
encouraged,  and,  Republican-born  though  I 
was,  I  understood  why  people  heartily  admire 
the  Prince  of  Wales. 

As  I  walked  down  the  stage  the  Prince 
looked  at  me  in  a  way  that  seemed  to  say : 
"  Now,  my  boy,  you  are  three  thousand  miles 
away  from  home  ;  you  want  to  make  a  success. 
Go  in  and  do  your  best.  If  you  have  any 
ability,  I  will  help  you  all  I  can."  He  seemed 
surprised  at  my  small  stature,  so  I  got  on  a  box 
to  give  him  a  better  view.  The  first  thing  I 
did  was  an  imitation,  entirely  by  the  face ;  it 
was  of  a  man  who  received  a  letter  from  his 
wife ;  he  expected,  of  course,  that  she  wanted 
more  money  ;  opened  the  letter  and  discovered 
that  she  didn't,  but  that  her  mother,  his  dear 
mother-in-law,  was  ill,  and  a  postscript  told 
she  was  dead.  The  whole  story  is  told  by  the 
face.  Of  course  the  man  is  very  cross  at  first, 
but  blissful  at  last  when  he  finds  his  mother-in- 
law  is  dead.  This  caught  the  Prince's  fancy, 
and  he  burst  into  a  laugh  which  from  any  one 
less  distinguished  would  have  been  called  a 
roar.  He  was  even  so  kind  as  to  "  call  me 
out,"  and,  of  course,  the  audience  assisted  him. 
It  was  worth  to  me  nearly  $1000  in  a  very 
short  time,  for  next  morning  I  had  fifteen 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.         41 

engagements.     That    started    my    career     in 
London. 

The  first  time  I  met  the  Prince  to  have  any 
conversation  with  him  was  at  the  house  of  a 
prominent  society  lady  who  gave  an  entertain 
ment.  Mr.  Eugene  Oudin,  the  well-known 
American  baritone,  and  I  were  invited  there  to 
entertain  the  Prince.  When  the  Prince  came 
in  I  noticed  his  entire  lack  of  formality,  and 
yet  his  gentlemanly,  courteous  bearing  and 
dignified  manner  made  one  feel  that  his  Royal 
Highness  was  an  awfully  nice  fellow,  but 
caused  one  to  refrain  from  being  familiar  with 
him.  It  was  strange  to  see  how  assuming  all 
the  rest  of  the  men  about  him  were  ;  how  full  of 
stiffness  and  formality  they  were.  The  Prince 
alone  was  perfectly  easy  in  his  manner.  The 
man  whom  you  would  naturally  think  would  be 
formal  was  just  the  reverse.  After  the  enter 
tainment  we  went  down  to  dine.  As  I  passed 
on  the  right  of  the  Prince,  there  was  a  vacant 
seat  beside  him,  and  he  kindly  said,  "  Mr. 
Wilder,  be  seated."  So  I  sat  down  beside 
him.  For  once  in  my  life  I  felt  very  tall ;  I 
know  everybody  will  forgive  me.  I  never  shall 
forget  how  kind  he  was,  and  what  nice  things 
he  said  about  America.  He  asked  me  a  great 
many  questions  about  the  Americans,  and 


42  The  People  I've  Smiled  With  : 

seemed  to  be  wonderfully  well  posted  on  every, 
thing  happening  here. 

During  the  evening  I  wanted  a  glass  of 
water — being  a  temperance  man.  I  called  to  a 
waiter  to  hand  me  the  caraffe.  It  was  right  in 
front  of  the  Prince,  who  himself  passed  it  to 
me,  remarking  as  he  did  so :  "  Mr.  Wilder,  that 
is  water." 

"  Yes,  your  Highness,  but  that  is  all  I  take." 

He  could  have  turned  around  and  said  to 
me,  "  See  here ;  you  don't  often  get  a  chance 
to  drink  with  a  Prince,"  but  he  was  so  gentle 
manly  in  his  way  that  he  did  not  at  all  em 
barrass  me.  I  wish  some  Americans  could 
learn  manners  from  him. 

Of  course  I  closely  observed,  on  every  op 
portunity,  the  manner  of  the  prospective  King 
of  England.  When  he  appears  at  a  reception, 
every  one  arises ;  the  Prince  bows,  and  greets 
the  host  and  hostess,  sometimes  shaking  hands 
with  them.  He  is  very  particular  about  dress. 
On  all  occasions  a  military  man,  when  he  comes 
into  the  presence  of  the  Prince,  must  wear  the 
proper  uniform.  If  he  has  any  medals — the 
man  who  wins  a  medal  in  England  has  a  small 
miniature  model  made  of  it  and  placed  on  a 
ribbon*  instead  of  wearing  the  large  medal — • 
these  the  Prince  insists  upon  his  wearing.  As 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.         43 

soon  as  the  Prince  seats  himself  everybody  else 
sits  down.  No  one  leaves  until  the  Prince 
does.  It  is  wonderful  how  he  observes  every 
thing  and  knows  exactly  how  long  to  stay,  and 
when  to  get  up  and  lead  the  way  to  the  dining- 
room.  As  he  walks  past  the  company  every 
one  bows.  As  he  goes  down  to  the  dining- 
room  the  other  guests  follow  him.  He  stands 
until  everybody  is  in  the  room ;  then  he  sits 
down,  and  the  others  follow  his  example. 
When  he  commences  eating,  they  commence 
eating.  He  is  very  thoughtful  as  well  as  clever. 
For  instance,  no  one  stops  eating  until  he 
stops,  so  he  will  keep  on  eating  till  he  sees  that 
everybody  has  got  pretty  nearly  enough.  His 
exceeding  tact  and  courtesy  astonished  me  so 
that  once  I  made  bold  to  ask  him  how  he  could 
remember  the  various  people  he  met.  He  said 
he  always  associated  certain  ideas  with  them. 

His  kindness  to  me  at  all  times  I  cannot 
forget ;  he  really  seemed  to  "  have  me  on  his 
mind,"  and  to  remember  that  I  was  a  stranger 
there  and  whatever  kindness  he  could  show  me 
would  do  me  good.  He  was  right,  bless  him! 

One  night  I  went  to  Mr.  Irving's  theatre,  and 
the  Prince  was  in  one  of  the  boxes.  Those 
acquainted  with  Mr.  Irving's  theatre  know  that 
there  is  a  room  off  one  of  the  boxes  where  the 


44  The  People  I've  Smiled  With  : 

Prince  generally  goes  to  take  refreshments. 
As  I  passed  by  the  Prince  happened  to  see  me 
and  called  out : 

"  Aha,  little  chap,  back  again  ?  " 

"  Yes,  your  Highness,"  said  I.  As  I  walked 
up  the  stair  he  noticed  I  was  lame,  so  he  leaned 
down  and  helped  me  up  two  steps.  Then  he 
shook  my  hands  and  turned  to  Mr.  Ashton,  of 
Mitchell's,  and  said,  "  You  must  always  be  kind 
to  this  little  chap."  It's  no  wonder  the  English 
people  are  very  fond  of  him,  but  I'll  double 
discount  any  of  them  at  that  business;  I've 
good  reason,  too. 


CHAPTER  VIL 

LONDON  SOCIETY. — AMERICANS  HAVE  A  MISTAKEN  IDEA 
ABOUT  IT. — GOOD  TASTE  AND  UNAFFECTED  MANNERS. — 
JDUKE  OF  TECK. — EARL  DUDLEY. — BRITISH  LOYALTY. — 
VISITORS  ARE  MADE  TO  FEEL  AT  HOME.— THE  EGYPTIAN 
PRINCES.— VICTORIA,  D.  G.,  ETC.—"  GOD  SAVE  THE 
QUEEN.  " 

BEFORE  I  went  to  England  I  heard  a  great 
deal  about  society,  and  people,  and  society 
ways  over  there.  I  was  loaded  to  my  full  ca 
pacity  with  information  and  advice,  all  given 
with  the  best  intentions  in  the  world,  but  as 
soon  as  I  became  acquainted  I  had  to  unload 
and  throw  it  all  away.  I've  no  doubt  there  are 
cads,  dudes,  fools,  and  rogues  in  some  English 
circles,  but  I  am  happy  to  say  I  haven't  met 
any  of  them,  although  I've  been  over  several 
times,  and  "run  around"  a  great  deal. 

I  suppose  some  of  our  readers  will  think  me 
assuming  when  I  express  opinions  on  this  sub 
ject.  Well,  I'm  quite  willing  to  admit  that 
I'm  not  a  "  swell ;  "  I  know  perfectly  well  that 
in  society  I'm  merely  the  salt  that  goes  with 
the  soup,  nevertheless  I  insist  that  "  the 
45 


46  The  People  I've  Smiled  With  : 

soup  "  above  alluded  to  is  good  to  be  "  in.*' 
Fve  been  invited  out  .a  great  deal  in  London, 
generally  in  my  professional  capacity ;  I've 
kept  my  eyes  and  ears  open,  seen  and  heard 
everything,  good  and  bad,  that  any  one  could 
see,  and  I  must  say  that  more  intelligent, 
better-hearted,  better-mannered  people  than 
the  upper  classes  in  England  cannot  be  found 
anywhere — not  even  in  our  own  happy  land, 
where  I  know  any  number  of  good  fellows  and 
charming  women. 

One  reason  of  this  isn't  hard  to  find.  The 
English  have  learned  how  to  enjoy  life,  and 
how  not  to  be  in  a  hurry  to  get  away  from 
what  they  are  doing  and  go  do  something  else. 
Clerks  in  government  offices  and  business 
houses,  private  secretaries,  and  the  managers  of 
great  estates,  are  trained  to  do  work  which  here 
the  millionnaire  must  do  for  himself.  English 
household  service  is  perfect,  as  near  as  human 
ity  can  make  it ;  you  simply  can't  imagine  a  lot 
of  English  ladies  sitting  down  and  exchanging 
dismal  remarks  about  cooks  and  chamber 
maids,  such  as  one  can't  help  hearing  when 
ever  a  few  women  get  together  in  a  drawing- 
room  in  New  York.  I'm  not  blaming  our 
American  women  ;  if  I  were  in  their  place, 
I'd  talk  servants  too,  and  I'm  sure  my  language 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.        47 

would  be  unfit  for  publication.  But  facts  are 
good,  solid,  can't-get-away-from-me  sort  of 
things,  and  I'm  talking  about  some  of  them 
that  do  make  a  distinct  difference  between 
society  in  Europe  and  here. 

In  one  particular,  however,  the  better  classes 
in  both  countries  are  exactly  alike  ;  the  greater 
the  individual  really  is,  the  more  modest  and 
natural  is  his  manner  with  every  one. 

For  'instance,  one  night  at  a  reception  at 
Mrs.  Ronalds's,  while  I  was  perched  upon  a 
sofa  watching  the  brilliant  assemblage,  I  fell 
into  conversation  with  a  pleasant  gentleman 
seated  beside  me,  who  was  very  curious  about 
America  and  American  life.  I  told  him  a 
great  deal  about  America,  and  said  that  Ameri 
cans  in  England  would  not  at  once  know  how 
to  address  people  properly.  "  As  for  me,"  I 
said,  "  I  am  as  green  as  a  gooseberry  on  this 
subject ;  even  if  I  supposed  you  were  one  of 
the  nobility  I  should  not  know  how  to  address 
you."  A  few  moments  afterward  Mrs.  Ronalds 
said  to  me,  "  Mr.  Wilder,  that's  a  good  thing 
you've  been  saying  to  the  Duke  of  Teck ; 
you've  made  an  impression  upon  His  High 
ness."  I  replied  :  "  Why,  I  haven't  met  the 
Duke  of  Teck;  the  only  gentleman  I've  been 
talking  to  is  standing  over  there."  "  Well," 


48  The  People  I've  Smiled  With  : 

says  Mrs.  Ronalds,  "that  is  the  Duke  of 
Teck."  Gracious  !  I  am  a  little  enough  fellow 
by  nature,  but  just  then  you  might  have  put 
me  in  a  pint  cup. 

Last  summer  young  Earl  Dudley  invited  me 
down  to  his  place — Witley  Court,  Worcester 
shire.  The  Earl  wanted  me  to  entertain  some  of 
the  yeomanry — corresponding  with  our  militia. 
When  I  arrived  he  was  out  playing  polo ; 
soon  afterward  he  hurt  his  ankle  and  had  to 
be  helped  upstairs  by  his  valet  and  one  of  his 
friends.  When  he  came  into  the  room  where  I 
was  awaiting  him,  he  was  suffering  great  pain, 
but  he  spoke  as  kindly  to  me  as  if  I  were  an 
old  friend.  Afterward  he  invited  me  to  join  a 
number  of  officers  at  a  hotel,  and  a  very  pleasant 
evening  I  had.  All  were  cultivated  gentlemen  ; 
they  had  read  a  great  deal  about  America,  and 
listened  with  great  interest  to  the  stories  I 
told  them  of  this  country.  They  were  par 
ticularly  interested  in  the  stories  of  the  Fire 
Department ;  Englishmen  always  are  inter 
ested  particularly  in  whatever  calls  for  manly 
strength  and  courage. 

When  English  people  of  "  quality "  invite 
you,  their  cards  are  very  simple.  They  are 
not  printed  as  we  get  them  up  here, — elabor 
ate  copperplate  engravings,  like  government 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.        49 

bonds  or  railroad  stocks,  but  are  simply  written, 
in  a  cordial  off-hand  manner,  by  the  hostess 
herself,  as  a  rule,  and  in  very  simple  language. 
For  instance,  "  Lady  Burton  invites  Mr.  Wilder 
to  tea  Friday  afternoon  at  four."  In  one  cor 
ner  of  the  card  will  be  "  Music  by  the  Hungar 
ian  band  ;"  in  the  other  corner  will  be  "  R.  S. 
V.  P."  That  is  always  there.  When  you  ar 
rive  you  are  ushered  into  Lady  Burton's  beau 
tiful  apartments  in  Mayfair.  A  flunky  meets 
you  at  the  door  and  takes  your  hat  and  coat. 
A  little  further  on  another  flunky  takes  your 
card,  and  passes  to  the  room  above  where  the 
reception  is  held.  My  lady  will  be  standing  at 
the  door  with  her  husband,  and  the  flunky  calls 
out  your  name;  then  you  receive  a  cordial 
hand-shake,  and  pass  right  in.  There  are  no 
formal  introductions,  as  a  rule.  When  a  guest 
you  have  the  right  to  speak  to  everybody — and 
you  do.  If  you  happen  to  make  a  mistake  and 
address  a  person  wrongly,  allowances  are  kindly 
made  for  you — if  they  know  you  are  an  Ameri 
can.  One  nobleman  came  to  me  in  London  one 
day — he  is  a  man  of  high  title — and  showed  to 
me  a  letteraddressedtohimas"Mr."  and  "Esq.," 
and  he  laughed  at  it  as  heartily  as  if  I  had  been 
called  Lord  Marshall  P.  Wilder  ;  he  seemed 
to  think  it  a  capital  joke  instead  of  being 


50  The  People  I've  Smiled  With: 

offended  by  it.  Who  wouldn't  like  such  a 
fellow  ? 

It  is  not  an  uncommon  thing  in  London 
society  to  see  negro  banjo-players  contributing 
to  the  entertainment  of  the  guests.  There  are 
a  couple  of  men  over  there — the  Bohee  Broth 
ers — who  are  making  a  great  deal  of  money. 
They  went  over  with  Haverly's  minstrels  some 
time  ago.  The  English  people  must  be  enter 
tained  ;  they  have  the  leisure,  the  money,  and 
the  taste  for  it,  and  draw  the  line  only  against 
what  is  not  good  of  its  kind,  and  what  is  not 
respectable.  They  will  not,  however,  tolerate 
buffoonery,  or  anything  that  approaches  it. 

I've  been  asked  whether  the  higher  classes  in 
England  really  respect  royalty,  and  I  always 
answer  "  Yes,"  with  all  the  lungs  I  have.  Any 
one  who  bets  his  pile  on  England  becoming  a 
republic  will  wish  afterward  that  he'd  put  his 
money  into  Keely  Motor  stock,  for  he'd  get  at 
least  the  price  of  waste  paper  out  of  it.  How 
can  the  English  help  it?  With  a  Queen  who 
is  a  model  of  domestic  virtue  and  royal  dignity, 
the  Prince  of  Wales,  who  is  unceasing  in  cour 
tesy,  cordiality,  and  thoughtfulness,  his  charm 
ing  wife  the  Princess,  whom  everybody  adores, 
and  a  royal  family  beside  which  numbers  many 
estimable  members,  the  English  have  plenty  of 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.         51 

reason  to  be  loyal  and  satisfied.  I'm  a  rabid 
American  myself — I  crow  whenever  our  eagle 
screams,  and  I  can't  ever  look  at  the  Stars  and 
Stripes  without  a  sudden  enlargement  of  the 
heart  and  a  tendency  to  wipe  my  eyes — but 
whenever  English  hats  go  off  as  "  God  save  the 
Queen  "  is  played,  I  know  just  how  the  men 
under  those  hats  feel,  and  I  honour  them  for  it. 
Among  other  royal  personages  whom  I  met 
unexpectedly  in  England  were  the  Egyptian 
Princes.  Through  the  kind  suggestion  of  the 
Prince  of  Wales  I  one  day  received  the  follow 
ing  invitation  : 

"  MR.  WILDER  :  Their  Highnesses  the  Prin 
ces  Abbas  and  Mehemet  AH  request  the  pleas 
ure  of  your  company  to  dinner  to-morrow 
evening  at  six  o'clock." 

Following  this  came  the  same  invitation  in 
Egyptian  characters,  on  parchment.  The 
princes  are  sons  of  the  Khedive  of  Egypt ; 
when  I  met  them  their  ages  were  about  thir 
teen  and  fourteen  years,  but  their  manners 
were  those  of  well-bred  adults.  They  showed 
training  in  pomp  and  ceremony,  yet  they  were 
courteous  and  .cordial.  They  had  been  out  to 
visit  Queen  Victoria  and  had  just  returned,  but 
they  were  not  above  being  affable  to  a  tiny 
American  sovereign.  They  had  been  educated 


52  The  People  I've  Smiled  With: 

in  Switzerland,  and  spoke  English  well.  They 
were  much  pleased  with  my  entertainment,  and 
understood  me  thoroughly.  The  elder  seemed 
in  manner  very  like  the  Prince  of  Wales  :  he 
was  naturally  the  leader,  being  heir  to  the 
throne.  They  talked  a  great  deal  about  my 
entertainment ;  afterward  they  went  in  to 
dinner  with  great  ceremony.  The  elder  went 
in  first,  his  brother  followed,  and  they  went 
through  about  the  same  ceremony  that  I  have 
described  with  regard  to  the  Prince  of  Wales  : 
all  about  them  stood  up  until  the  Princes 
were  seated  ;  the  dishes  were  first  presented  to 
Prince  Abbas  and  then  passed  around.  I  no 
ticed  how  clever  he  was  not  to  finish  before 
any  one  else.  Finally,  when  he  rose  all  fol 
lowed.  When  he  got  back  to  Egypt  he  sent 
me  a  present  of  a  cane  as  a  souvenir  of  the 
occasion,  and  also  an  invitation  to  visit  them 
in  Egypt.  He  told  me  that  when  he  arrived 
home  outside  the  gates  of  the  palace  they 
would  kill  a  lamb  or  a  cow,  and  then  the  car 
riage  of  the  prince  would  have  to  drive  through 
the  blood.  The  ceremony  may  seem  barbar 
ous,  but  time-honoured  precedents  must  be  re 
spected,  as  the  Yankee  deacon  said  when  he 
refused  to  give  the  parson  more  than  a  dollar 
for  marrying  him  to  his  sixth  wife. 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.         53 

Every  American  who  has  been  to  England 
is  expected  to  tell,  when  he  comes  home,  what 
he  thinks  of  the  Queen.  I  saw  Her  Majesty 
on  "Jubilee  Day";  she  didn't  stop  her  car 
riage  to  speak  to  me,  but  I  forgive  her;  'twas 
her  jubilee— not  mine  ;  when  I've  governed  a 
great  country  respectably  for  fifty  years  I  won't 
stop  my  carriage  in  the  procession  for  anybody; 
if  any  one  wants  to  speak  to  me  that  particular 
day,  let  them  come  up  to  the  house  when  the 
show  is  over.  As  I  said,  I  saw  Her  Majesty, 
and  I  was  so  much  impressed  that  I  raised  my 
hat  as  high  as  my  arm  would  let  me.  Just 
think  of  it  a  moment,  fellow-citizens  who  have 
seen  Presidents  rise  and  fall  once  in  four  years; 
here  was  a  woman  who  for  half  a  century  had 
been  head  of  the  most  populous  civilized  nation 
in  the  world,  yet  except  for  an  air  of  modest 
dignity — "  the  divinity  that  doth  hedge  a 
king  " — looked  as  honest,  unassuming,  kindly, 
womanly,  and  good  as  any  decent  fellow's  dar 
ling  mother. 

"God  save  the  Queen." 

"  Them's  my  sentiments,"  as  the  man  said  as 
he  hung  up  a  printed  prayer  on  the  wall  one 
cold  winter  evening,  and  pointed  at  it  before 
he  jumped  into  bed. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

ENTERTAINING  IN  LONDON. — ENGLISH  "SWELLS"  DRESS 
PLAINLY  AT  PARTIES. — No  DISPLAY  OF  JEWELRY. — 
BARON  ROTHSCHILD. — BRAINS  RULE  IN  GOOD  SOCI 
ETY. — MRS.  RONALDS. — MRS.  MACKAY. — LADY  ARTHUR 
PAGET. — No  CROWD  OR  NOISE  IN  THE  BEST  HOUSES. — No 
DISPLAY. 

WHITE  I  am  scribbling  about  the  ways  of  a 
number  of  "  nice  people "  who  have  smiled 
with  me  in  London,  it  may  not  be  inappropri 
ate  to  astonish  some  of  my  readers  and  enrage 
their  jewellers,  by  remarking  that  people  at 
"  the  best  houses  "  wear  very  few  diamonds  or 
other  gems.  They  own  them  ;  there  are  occa 
sions  when  they  wear  them,  but  informal  re 
ceptions  and  entertainments  are  not  among 
them. 

Baron  Rothschild  is  the  richest  banker  in 
England ;  Mrs.  Mackay  is  wife  of  a  "  Bo 
nanza  King,"  but,  except  on  extraordinary 
occasions,  there  is  less  display  of  jewelry  in 
the  well-filled  drawing-rooms  of  these  promi 
nent  members  of  society  than  you  may  see  at 
an  ordinary  reception  in  New  York.  English 
54 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.        55 

people  of  the  better  class  own  a  great  many 
jewels,  and  they  know  how  to  admire  and  dis 
play  them,  but  they  have  a  very  clear  idea  that 
"  there  is  a  time  for  everything,"  and  the  time 
to  show  off  rare  necklaces,  bracelets,  and  other 
begemmed  ornaments  is  not  during  an  evening 
devoted  to  amusement.  Even  the  diamond 
ring,  without  which  no  American  lady's  toilet 
is  complete — nor  any  shop-girl's  either — has  to 
be  looked  for  a  long  time  in  a  parlor  full  of 
high-born  English  ladies.  As  for  a  competitive 
show  of  diamond  rings — "  a  full  hand," — such 
as  one  frequently  sees  .spoiling  pretty  fingers 
in  America,  you  can't  see  it  in  any  class  of 
English  society — not  even  among  the  vulgar 
people  made  newly  rich. 

There  is  a  notion  in  America  that  all  "  swell  " 
society  in  England  consists  of  the  nobility. 
There  never  was  a  greater  mistake.  Noble 
men,  like  ministers,  are  sometimes  off-color ;  a 
few  of  them,  of  retiring  and  studious  manner, 
wouldn't  be  in  society  if  they  could ;  a  far 
greater  number  couldn't  if  they  would.  In  Lon 
don  you  are  quite  as  likely  to  meet  the  Prince 
of  Wales  or  some  other  memb.er  of  the  royal 
family  at  a  little  evening  entertainment  given 
by  a  commoner  or  an  American,  as  among  the 
nobility.  Character,  manners,  and  culture  are 


56  The  People  I've  Smiled  With: 

as  highly  esteemed  in  England  as  here,  al 
though  some  of  our  own  good  people  seem  to 
think  they've  a  monopoly  of  that  sort  of  thing. 
Some  of  the  pleasantest  home  entertain- 
ments  in  London  are  given  by  Americans.  For 
instance,  there  is  Mrs.  Ronalds;  I  believe  an 
Englishman  who  has  the  entree  of  her  delight 
ful  house  would  give  up  grumbling  about  the 
national  debt  rather  than  miss  one  of  her  "  Sun 
day  afternoons."  I  have  heard  them  spoken  of 
as  "rather  Bohemian, "-but  if  that  is  true,  all 
society  can  afford  to  make  haste  to  be  Bohe 
mian.  The  only  difference  between  these 
affairs  and  some  other  drawing-room  entertain 
ments  is  that  they  are  a  bit  less  formal,  Mrs. 
Ronalds's  friends  "  dropping  in,"  instead  of 
being  specially  invited.  The  hostess  is  always 
near  the  door,  receives  each  guest,  and  has  an 
inexplicable,  wonderful  way  of  at  once  making 
every  one  feel  at  ease.  As  a  rule  in  London, 
everybody  in  good  society  knows  everybody 
else,  and  no  introductions  are  necessary,  but 
many  prominent  Americans  and  people  from 
the  Continent  are  acquainted  with  Mrs.  Ron 
alds  ;  she  must  see  that  these  do  not  feel  lone 
some  or  ill  at  ease,  and  she  does  it  instantly, 
or  her  charming  daughter,  Mrs.  Ritchie,  does 
it  for  her. 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.         57 

All  the  prominent  lyric  artists  in  London 
like  to  sing  at  Mrs.  Ronalds's  receptions,  partly 
because  most  of  her  friends  really  love  good 
music,  but  another  reason  is  that  no  one  dares 
to  talk  or  whisper  while  music  is  going  on. 
There  are  places  in  London  that  remind  one 
of  Punch's  joke  about  the  lady  who  was  so  glad 
the  distinguished  pianist  she  had  invited  was 
about  to  play,  for  then  the  people  would  stop 
being  stupid  and  begin  to  talk:  if,  however, 
any  one  attempts  to  talk  during  song  or  piano 
playing,  Mrs.  Ronalds  gives  them  a  look ;  a 
pleasant  smile  goes  with  it,  but  the  talker 
promptly  retires  within  himself  for  a  while. 
Probably  more  literary  and  artistic  people  go  to 
Mrs.  Ronalds's  Sunday  afternoons  than  to  any 
other  house  in  London,  and  other  noted  people 
go  there  to  meet  them.  In  a  single  afternoon 
I  have  seen  there  the  Prince  of  Wales,  Lord 
Burton,  Mrs.  Mackay,  Lady  Paget,  George 
Augustus  Sala,  Lady  Randolph  Churchill,  Sir 
Arthur  Sullivan,  Wilson  Barrett,  and  many 
others  equally  prominent  in  their  respective 
sets  and  professions.  Minnie  Hauk  and  Mad 
ame  Nevada  sang,  Sir  Arthur  Sullivan  played, 
W.  S.  Gilbert  said  witty  things,  everybody 
chatted  with  everybody,  and  not  one  person 
did  I  see  sitting  alone  or  looking  bored.  The 


58  The  People  I've  Smiled  With: 

hostess  seemed  to  be  seeing,  hearing,  and  enjoy 
ing  everything,  yet  finding  time  beside  to  speak 
to  all  her  guests.  I  never  can  forget  her  many 
kindnesses  to  one  small  American  whose  name 
begins  with  W. 

Mrs.  Mackay's  entertainments  are  also  de 
lightful.  Althougji  as  rich  as  the  richest,  and 
the  owner  of  a  beautiful  house  to  which  the 
best  people  in  London  like  to  come,  she  never 
forgets  her  nationality  to  the  extent  of  forget 
ting  Americans — of  the  right  kind — in  London, 
Many  of  our  people  get  letters  of  introduction 
to  Mrs.  Mackay  when  going  abroad,  and  it  is 
amusing  to  note  the  astonishment  of  some  of 
them  when  they  meet  the  lady.  Because  she 
is  wife  of  a  "Bonanza  King,"  they  seem  to 
expect  her  home  to  look  like  Aladdin's  cave, 
and  to  see  her  arrayed  like  an  Oriental  prin 
cess.  Well,  it  would  be  impossible  to  find 
anywhere  a  house  where  there  is  less  attempt 
at  display;  everything  is  there  which  taste 
and  comfort  suggest,  but  nothing  designed 
only  for  show.  As  for  the  warm-hearted 
hostess,  I  never  saw  a  more  unassuming  lady, 
nor  did  I  ever  see  her  wearing  jewelry  of  any 
kind.  She  never  says  or  does  anything  to 
remind  a  person  that  she  is  richer  than  any  but 
two  or  three  of  Britain's  six  hundred  peers, 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.          59 

and  that  she  knows  every  one  in  England  worth 
knowing.  Beside  being  a  society  queen  she  is 
very  enterprising  and  nobly  charitable  ;  where 
some  one  else,  hearing  of  a  case  of  suffering.will 
sigh  "  Poor  thing  !  "  and  think  her  duty  done, 
Mrs.  Mackay  will  have  the  case  looked  into, 
and  substantial  relief  provided  at  once  if  really 
needed.  Some  Americans  seem  to  think  she 
has  become  entirely  Anglicized  and  has  "cut" 
her  native  country ;  but  one  day  I  asked  her 
when  she  would  return,  and  she  quickly  re 
plied  :  "  I  want  to  go  home  as  soon  as  my  sons 
complete  their  education." 

Another  American  lady  —  Lady  Arthur 
Paget,  ne'e  Minnie  Stevens — gives  entertain 
ments  so  delightful  that  people  will  break 
almost  any  other  engagement  rather  than  miss 
them.  At  her  house  I  have  met  the  Prince 
and  Princess  of  Wales,  their  Royal  Highnesses 
the  Duke  and  Duchess  of  Connaught,  the 
Duke  of  Teck  and  his  handsome  wife  the 
Princess  Mary,  and  many  other  distinguished 
persons. 

Entertainments  at  such  houses  are  specially 
delightful,  aside  from  other  reasons,  because 
there  is  no  noise  nor  any  crowd.  Only  enough 
invitations  are  sent  out  to  comfortably  fill  the 
house,  When  a  song  or  recitation  is  to  be 


60  The  People  I've  Smiled  With: 

given,  the  master  of  ceremonies  claps  his 
hands,  the  buzz  of  conversation  ceases,  and 
every  one  listens  as  respectfully  as  if  the 
hostess  herself  was  speaking.  When  your 
humble  servant  was  to  "  do  something,"  he 
was  generally,  in  compliment  to  his  size,  placed 
on  a  cushion  on  the  piano,  so  he  could  be  seen 
as  well  as  heard. 

It  would  do  a  Yankee's  soul  good  to  hear 
the  talk  of  the  better  class  of  English  people 
about  American  girls.  All  English  people 
admire  our  young  women  immensely — how 
can  they  help  it  ? — but  some  misunderstand 
them.  Not  "so  the  well-bred  English,  whom 
our  girls  most  naturally  meet.  It  is  all  in  the 
bringing  up,  as  the  artillery  captain  said  when 
he  saved  the  day  by  bringing  his  battery  into 
an  action  over  a  road  which  no  other  fellow 
understood.  English  girls  are  as  natural,  sweet, 
and  good  as  any  in  the  world,  but  they  are  not 
brought  up  like  ours.  They  are  kept  like 
children  or  babies — I  don't  know  how  else  to 
express  it.  The  English  young  lady  spends  a 
great  deal  of  time  with  governess  and  nurse; 
in  many  families  she  does  not  take  her  meals 
with  her  parents  until  she  is  almost  a  woman. 
The  American  girl,  sitting  at  table  with  her 
elders  from  the  time  she  is  able  to  sit  on  a 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.        61 

chair,  and  playing  about  sitting-room, 
parlour,  or  wherever  else  her  mother  may 
chance  to  be,  unconsciously  gets  a  great  deal 
of  that  high  education  that  comes  of  contact 
with  superior  minds.  She  is  just  as  modest 
and  innocent  as  any  other  girl  in  the  world, 
but  she  is  a  great  deal  besides  :  she  has  a  degree 
bf  intelligence,  composure,  and  self-command 
that  makes  her  a  woman  among  women  quite 
as  early  as  her  brother  becomes  a  man.  This 
is  not  merely  my  opinion — I've  heard  it,  bit 
by  bit,  from  many  observing  English  men  and 
women. 

How  the  Englishmen  do  cluster  about  one 
of  our  pretty  girls  in  a  drawing-room !  No 
one  makes  rude  speeches,  unless  in  a  lower 
class  of  people  than  I  have  seen.  Old  men 
and  young;  husbands  and  bachelors,  veteran 
soldiers  and  statesmen,  callow  youths  and  top- 
heavy  university  students,  will  stand  in  a  circle 
for  an  hour  and  be  happy  to  get  a  word  from 
one  of  our  girls.  Not  a  disrespectful  or  impu 
dent  look  does  any  one  give  ;  each  looks  as  if 
he  wanted  to  say  :  "You  angel,  when  did  you 
drop  out  of  heaven  ?  Stay  here  a  long  time, 
won't  you? — it  can't  do  you  any  harm,  and  it 
does  the  rest  of  us  an  awful  lot  of  good." 

There  are  a  lot  of  people  on  our  side  of  the 


62  The  People  I've  Laughed  With. 

water  who  seem  to  think  that  the  American 
girl  goes  abroad  with  the  sole  idea  of  marrying 
a  title.  Nonsense!  any  of  our  girls  could  get 
a  distinguished  foreigner  for  a  husband  if  she 
liked.  If  she  doesn't,  it  isn't  for  lack  of  offers. 
Many  American  girls  who  spend  as  much  time 
abroad  as  here,  and  are  quite  at  home  in  Eng 
land,  have  married  titles,  but  the  great  majority 
come  back  to  marry  here  because  they  prefer 
to  live  here,  and  sensible  Englishmen  respect 
them  for  it,  for  nobody  knows  better  that 
•'  There's  no  place  like  home." 


CHAPTER  IX. 

"THE  SEASON."— SUMMER,  BUT  NOT  HOT  WEATHER. — A 
CHANCE  FOR  AMERICANS. — ENTERTAINMENTS  WITH  A 
RUSH. — RAIN  ALSO. — WILLIAM  BEATTY  KINGSTON.— 
GEORGE  AUGUSTUS  SALA. — LABOUCHERE. — SIR  MORELL 
MACKENZIE  : — NEWMAN  HALL. — JOSEPH  PARKER. — LADY 
WILDE. — OSCAR  WILDE. — WILLIE  WILDE. 

THERE  is  only  one  trouble  about  the  so- 
called  fashionable  season  in  London — it  doesn't 
last  long  enough.  Occasionally  I've  seen 
fashionable  Britons  who  looked  and  acted  as 
if  they  wished  the  season  shorter;  nevertheless 
I  adhere  to  my  original  statement,  for  I'm 
talking  from  the  standpoint  of  the  observer 
and  the  professional.  I  never  got  tired  of 
looking  on,  or  of  putting  one  engagement 
more  on  my  little  list. 

Still,  while  the  season  does  last  it  is  most 
lively.  The  American  who  imagines  the  Eng 
lish  a  slow  people  will  have  the  nonsense  taken 
out  of  him  very  speedily  if  he  gets  in  "the 
swim  "  of  English  society  for  the  season.  For 
a  time  it  was  a  mystery  to  me  that  people  got 
about  at  all  to  the  unceasing  round  of  parties, 
63 


64  The  People  I've  Laughed  With  : 

receptions,  and  balls.  I  used  to  pity  the  most 
stalwart  six-footers — of  whom  there  are  more 
in  England  than  in  New  York — as  they  hurried 
about  to  "  take  it  all  in  " ;  but  when  I  began  to 
be  in  demand  I  pitied  myself  more,  and  wished 
my  short  legs  were  as  numerous  as  those  of  a 
centipede.  It's  easy  enough,  though,  when 
you  know  the  ropes,  as  the  old  sailor  said  when 
he  hanged  himself. 

The  season  begins  at  the  first  of  June  and 
ends  at  the  last  of  July.  This  may  seem  hot 
weather,  to  the  American  mind,  but  the  Eng 
lish  haven't  any  such  summer  heat  as  we  ;  they 
can  wear  their  winter  clothes  all  the  year 
round.  Should  an  American  ever  want  to 
establish  a  reputation  in  England  as  a  colossal 
liar,  all  he  need  do  is  to  tell  a  few  positive 
truths  about  the  heat  of  New  York  in  summer. 
It  wouldn't  do,  though,  for  a  Philadclphian  or 
Poughkeepsie  man  to  go  and  do  likewise ; 
there  is  an  extreme  of  lying  which  the  English 
regard  as  detestable  imbecility. 

Sometimes  there  is  good  weather  during 
the  fashionable  season — but  only  sometimes. 
Once  when  I  was  over  there  was  rain  on  each 
of  ninety  successive  days.  Strange  though  it 
may  seem  to  Americans,  the  English  seldom 
grumble  about  bad  weather ;  there  are  some 


Recollections  of  a   Merry  Little  Life,          ^5 

things  that  long  civilization   tear 

and  one  of  them  is  that  the  weather  h  ma* 

by  a  power  that   can't    h 

amount   of   grumbling.       When   the   sun   does 

come    out,    however,    and    the    ground    dries 

decently,  the  English  take  advantage  of  it  in  a 

hurry.     There  are  very  few  <(  hot-!: 

amor;  i          n;  they-  ;e  a  good 

opportunity  to  be  out   and  about,  on   h 

back,  in  carriage,  or  on    foot,  and 

will    take    long   v,  rs   or 

brothers    in    weather    that     would    keep    an 

American  girl   indoors  for  fear  the  dam: 

would  tak  hair. 

It  mystifies  an  American  to  see   how  much 

hrnan  finds  to  devote  to  en- 

>iing    and    being    entertained.     There    is 

vy  Kingston,   for   instance,  of  the 

London   Daily    Telegraph.      Everybody  knows 

him  for  a  busy  journalist,  yet  every  bo 

in  rapid  succession  some  of 
the  most  enjoyable  or 

He  has  a  low  r:hley,  New  Road. 

I  was  invited  there  to  meet  Patti,  w; 
of     Mr.    Kir  nd         I 

famous  musician,  and 

some  Continental  royalties  were  of  the  ; 
The   Kingstons'  Sunday   afternoons  a^e   noted 


66  The  People  I've  Smiled  With: 

as  among  the  most  enjoyable  in  London.  In 
the  house  are  several  fine  pianos,  one  of  which 
has  not  been  opened  in  a  long  time,  because 
the  last  person  who  played  upon  it  was  the 
incomparable  Liszt  :  a  silver  plate  on  the  lid 
is  inscribed  with  this  statement. 

George  Augustus  Sala  is  another  very  busy 
knight  of  the  pen,  but  he  finds  time  to  give  a 
great  many  dinner-parties,  which  no  one  of  the 
invited  would  miss  any  more  than  he'd  miss 
his  own  wedding-day. 

Then  there  is  Labouchere ;  what  that  man 
doesn't  interest  himself  in,  know  about,  talk 
about,  and  write  about,  hasn't  yet  been  discov 
ered  by  the  most  inquisitive  eye.  There  isn't 
a  man  in  England,  except,  perhaps,  Gladstone, 
whose  opinions  are  oftener  quoted, — yet  La 
bouchere  is  continually  entertaining.  He  has 
a  glorious  place  for  the  purpose,  too  ;  it  is 
Pope's  historic  villa  at  Twickenham,  on  the 
Thames,  only  a  little  way  from  the  heart  of 
London.  Beside  entertaining  his  friends  and 
acquaintances,  he  .allows  the  general  public  the 
liberty  of  his  beautiful  grounds  a  great  deal  of 
the  time.  He  has  an  odd  way  of  intimating 
when  he  wants  the  general  crowd  to  depart, 
but  it  never  fails  to  work  ;  on  top  of  his  house 
is  a  clock,  visible  from  all  parts  of  the  grounds, 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.        67 

and  when  the  proprietor  wishes  to  give  "  notice 
to  quit  "  he  simply  sets  the  hands  forward  an 
hour  or  two. 

I  shall  never  forget  the  first  time  that  I  met 
Mr.  Labouchere.  I  wrote  him  that  I  had  a 
letter  of  introduction  to  him,  and  he  responded 
with  an  invitation  to  his  villa.  When  I  sent 
up  my  card  I  was  ushered  into  the  presence  of 
two  men,  one  of  whom  was  short,  with  whis 
kers  about  his  face,  his  clothes  rather  unkempt, 
and  his  shoes  down  at  the  heel — a  man  who 
was  very  quiet  in  his  manner.  The  other  man 
was  a  very  large  fellow,  who  had  a  great  deal  to 
say,  and  moved  around  and  talked  in  so  au 
thoritative  a  manner  that  I  immediately  as 
sumed  he  was  Labouchere.  After  some  con 
versation  I  discovered  my  mistake,  and  felt 
like  pinching  myself.  Mr.  Labouchere  and 
Mr.  Elaine  resemble  each  other  greatly  in  one 
respect :  each  can  talk  with  you  an  hour  and 
make  you  tell  him  everything  you  know,  while 
he  gives  you  little  or  nothing.  They  give  you 
the  impression  right  away  that  they  listen  to 
everything  you  say,  which  is  highly  flattering, 
yet  often,  after  you  leave  them,  you  want  to 
pinch  yourself  for  saying  so  much  and  hearing 
so  little. 

Labouchere  has  tried  his    hand  at    almost 


68  The  People  I've  Smiled   With: 

everything,  and  generally  succeeded.  He  told 
me  that  he  managed  the  Queen's  Theater  over 
twenty  years  ago,  and  in  his  company  were 
Charles  Wyndham,  Henry  Irving,  the  late 
John  Clayton,  J.  L.  Toole,  Ellen  Terry,  Lionel 
Brough,  and  others  now  famous.  At  that  time 
Toole  was  his  most  popular  man,  and  received 
the  highest  salary.  He  said  that  once  he  an 
nounced,  at  his  theatre,  Miss  Terry  and  Mr. 
Irving  in,  I  think,  "The  Taming  of  the  Shrew," 
but  "  the  public  entirely  declined  to  come." 
Think  of  it  ! 

While  telling  me  that  a  manager  needs  to 
know  human  nature  as  well  as  dramatic  art, 
and  must  humour  the  public  while  having  his 
own  way,  he  said,  by  way  of  explanation  : 
"  Once  I  advertised  to  give  a  Shakespearean 
entertainment,  the  names  of  the  plays  desired 
by  the  people  to  be  put  into  a  ballot-box,  and 
the  most  successful  one  was  to  be  produced. 
Every  one  visiting  my  theater  was  to  have  a 
chance  to  cast  a  ballot  for  some  Shakespearean 
play.  In  the  meantime  I  had  myself  prepared 
the  play — Cymbeline — which  I  really  intended 
to  produce.  I  let  everybody  vote,  and  gave 
the  impression  that  the  vote  would  decide 
what  would  be  brought  out,  but  in  the  mean 
time  Cymbeline  was  to  be  put  on,  whatever 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.          69 

they  said.  There  were  a  great  many  ballots 
cast,  but  not  more  than  two  or  three  for  Cym- 
beiine.  There  were  fifty  votes  for  Hamlet, 
forty-five  for  Macbeth,  and  forty  for  The  Mer 
chant  of  Venice,  but  the  play  I  brought  out 
was^Cymbeline ;  I  believed  it  would  be  popular, 
and  I  had  a  large  audience." 

Mrs.  Labouchere  is  quite  as  fond  of  the  stage 
as  her  husband,  and  knows  it  as  thoroughly  ; 
it  was  at  the  Labouchere  villa  that  I  had  the 
pleasure  of  witnessing  the  famous  perform 
ance  of  "  As  You  Like  It,"  with  a  number  of 
prominent  dramatic  artists  in  the  cast. 

Dr.  Morell  Mackenzie,  of  whom  the  world 
has  recently  heard  a  great  deal,  lives  in  a  pleas 
ant  home  on  Harley  Street,  West,  and  his  wife 
gives  capital  entertainments  Thursday  after 
noons,  at  which  one  is  sure  to  meet  a  great 
many  prominent  Englishmen.  I  had  but  a 
very  short  talk  with  Dr.  Mackenzie/as  his  time 
when  I  was  there  was  very  busily  taken  up 
writing  his  trials  and  experiences  at  the  Ger 
man  Court  on  the  occasion  of  the  late  Empe 
ror's  sickness.  I  found  his  wife  to  be  a  very 
charming  lady.  They  have  two  sons,  one,  a 
young  man,  who  is  very  much  "  taken  "  with 
the  stage,  and  who  looks  a  great  deal  like  his 
father. 


70  The  People  I've  Smiled  With: 

One  Londoner  whom  I  remember  most  pleas 
antly  is  Rev.  Newman  Hall,  well  known  to 
thousands  in  America,  I  first  met  him  at  the 
house  of  Dr.  Strong,  of  Saratoga,  when  he  was 
over  here  preaching.  One  night  we  all  got 
together  in  a  parlour,  and  Dr.  Hall  told  a  story 
after  listening  to  one  of  mine.  One  led  to  an 
other.  We  commenced  about  ten  o'clock  and 
ended  about  twelve,  he  alternating  with  me, 
and  always  telling  stories  a  great  deal  better 
than  I  could.  (You  may  be  sure  I  wouldn't 
admit  this  if  I  could  help  it.)  About  twelve 
o'clock  the  audience,  who  had  been  laughing 
all  the  evening,  shook  hands  with  the  doctor, 
and  went  home.  I  think  at  that  hour  he  must 
have  about  reached  the  end  of  his  stories — no 
man  can  hold  more  than  so  many.  When  I 
went  to  London  he  gave  me  a  charming  little 
lunch  at  the  Toy  House,  Hempstead  Heath,  and 
I  enjoyed  a  pleasant  time  there  with  himself, 
a  lot  of  his  friends,  and  his  charming  wife. 

Speaking  of  one  preacher  reminds  me  of  an 
other — one  who  wasn't  fully  appreciated  in 
this  country.  I  mean  the  Rev.  Joseph  Parker, 
about  whom  there  was  some  talk  in  connec 
tion  with  Plymouth  pulpit,  when  the  grand 
and  good  Beecher  died.  Dr.  Parker  is  a  splen 
did  fellow  to  joke  with;  he  laughs  all  over 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.        7* 

when  you  tell  him  a  good  thing,  and  he's  too 
"  square  "  to  let  you  get  away  before  he  can 
give  you  another  equally  good.  But  there's 
an  immense  deal  to  him  besides  humour. 

I  went  once  to  Dr.  Parker's  noonday  meet 
ing  at  the  City  Temple,  Holborn  Viaduct,  and 
was  greatly  impressed  by  the  spectacle  of  poor 
men  bringing  in  their  dinner-pails  and  eating 
their  midday  meal  while  Dr.  Parker  talked  to 
them.  If  any  one  doubts  his  goodness  and 
greatness  of  heart,  let  him  go  there  and  see 
how  much  beloved  he  is  by  his  immense  con 
gregation.  His  platform,  or  rather  his  pulpit, 
is  moved  out  almost  to  the  centre  of  the 
church,  as  near  as  can  be,  in  order  to  properly 
adjust  the  acoustics.  There  he  stands  and 
talks;  he  doesn't  preach,  but  just  talks  to  his  con 
gregation.  People  drop  in  and  stay  for  five 
or  ten  minutes,  and  then  go  out,  if  they  like. 
His  charming  wife  is  always  near  him.  In 
fact  I  noticed  that  both  Dr.  Parker  and  Dr. 
Hall  were  so  very  fond  of  their  wives,  that  they 
never  seemed  to  care  to  start  their  sermons 
unless  these  ladies  were  in  the  congregation.  I 
remember  Dr.  Parker  at  church  once  arising, 
and,  not  seeing  his  wife  in  her  customary  seat, 
he  sat  down  again  and  waited.  She  had  been 
detained  by  some  friends ;  when  she  finally  ar- 


72  The  People  I've  Smiled   With: 

rived  and  took  her  seat,  he  commenced  his  ser 
mon.  I  asked  him  about  it  afterward,  and  he 
said  he  got  much  of  his  inspiration  by  looking 
into  her  face. 

A  woman  can  make  or  break  a  man — every 
time. 

Lady  Wilde  has  every  Saturday  afternoon 
a  little  conversazione.  She  is  the  mother  of 
Oscar.  There  are  very  pleasant  gatherings 
at  her  house  throughout  the  society  sea 
son.  There  you  meet  all  the  literary  people. 
Oscar  Wilde  and  his  wife,  and  his  brother  Wil 
lie,  generally  attend,  and  also  a  great  many 
people  noted  in  music  and  art.  The  room  is 
lit  by  candles,  with  rose  shades,  which  cast  a 
very  soft  light.  Lady  Wilde  is  a  very  charm 
ing  lady,  and  she  has  the  true  English  style  of 
making  one  feel  perfectly  at  home ;  she  is 
constantly  receiving  friends  from  America, 
and  is  very  fond  of  Americans.  I  met  Oscar 
Wilde  a  great  deal  in  society.  He  is  one 
of  the  brightest  conversationalists  I  ever  had 
the  pleasure  of  talking  with.  He  is  not  at 
all  the  man  most  Americans  imagine  him. 
His  brother  Willie  Wilde  1  found  to  be 
more  of  a  social  man.  He  has  a  humourous 
way  of  telling  a  good  story,  and  enjoying 
it  too.  He  told  me  one  of  a  young  prima 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.          73 

donna  on  the  stage  who  was  singing  in  Dublin. 
At  one  part  of  the  song  she  takes  a  long  breath 
and  has  to  sustain  a  note.  She  held  it  for  a 
long  while,  and  two  or  three  Irishmen  in  the 
gallery  looked  at  each  other,  and  one  said, 
"  Say,  Mike,  listen  to  that  ";  another  said,  "  Oh, 
that's  nothing  at  all, — that's  not  the  woman, 
it's  the  gas."  He  told  me  another  story  of  a 
disturbance  in  the  pit  of  a  theater  in  Ireland. 
One  Irishman  called  out,  "  Put  him  out";  an 
other  fellow  said,  "Jump  on  him";  another 
man  said,  "  Say,  Pat,  don't  waste  him ;  kill  a 
fiddler  with  him  !  " 


CHAPTER  X. 

LONDON  CLUBS. — SEMI-HOMES,  SEMI-OFFICES. — GREAT  BLESS 
INGS  TO  WIVES. — THE  SAVAGE. — A  SATURDAY  NIGHT.— 
HOSPITABLE  TO  AMERICANS. — I  "  TAKE  OFF  "  BIGGAR. — 
THE  LYRIC  CLUB. — THE  NEW  CLUB. — THE  ODD  VOL 
UMES. — THE  GALLERY. — TITLE  AND  RANK. 

AMONG  the  first  surprises  of  an  American 
in  London  is  the  great  number  of  clubs ;  the 
next  surprise  is  the  number  of  ways  in  which  a 
man  will  make  his  club  useful  to  him.  To 
most  New  Yorkers  the  club  is  a  good  place  to 
go  when  they  have  nothing  else  to  do,  but  the 
Englishman's  club  seems  a  sort  of  second 
home, — a  half-way  place  between  residence  and 
business  office.  An  acquaintance  writes  you  a 
note,  not  from  his  place  of  business  or  resi 
dence,  but  from  his  club :  he  invites  you  to  call 
on  him  at  his  club,  not  his  house.  If  Ameri 
can  wives  could  know  what  a  blessing  this  cus 
tom  is — how  it  keeps  all  of  a  husband's  stupid 
semi-business  acquaintances  from  being  imposed 
upon  the  family,  and  saves  women  from  being 
driven  out  of  their  most  comfortable  room 
when  some  fellow  wants  to  "buzz"  the  head 
74 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.         75 

of  the  house  for  an  hour  or  two  about  politics 
or  a  yacht  race  or  a  shooting  match,  why,  the 
dear  creatures  would  have  a  club  house  at  every 
other  street  corner,  even  if  they  had  to  pay  all 
the  expenses  themselves,  out  of  their  own  pin- 
money. 

The  club  is  a  blessing  to  the  business  man, 
too ;  in  London  there  is  very  little  of  the  run 
ning  into  a  man's  counting-room  on  private  or 
social  business,  which  is  so  common  here.  The 
Englishman  in  his  counting-room,  office,  or 
studio,  can  depend  upon  having  the  use  of  all 
his  time  while  there  ;  at  his  house,  the  only 
calls  are  of  a  social  nature.  If  in  London  you 
want  to  see  a  gentleman  on  any  affair  of  your 
own,  you  go  to  his  club  :  if  he  is  not  there  you 
do  not  go  to  his  office,  disturb  the  course  of  his 
business,  and  make  him  wish  you  where  ther 
mometers  would  have  to  be  a  mile  high  to 
take  the  temperature.  You  do  not  go  to  his 
house  and  disturb  his  romp  with  the  children, 
or  a  rubber  of  whist  with  some  frien4s.  You 
merely  leave  your  card  at  the  club,  asking 
when  you  can  see  him,  and  he  replies,  asking 
you  to  call  at  the  club  at  a  specified  time. 

Beside  the  many  clubs  which  are  really  semi- 
business  offices  for  their  members,  there  are 
many  which  are  devoted  almost  entirely  to  en- 


76  The  People  I've  Smiled  With: 

tertainment — to  "  having  a  good  time."  There 
is  no  more  eating  and  drinking  at  these  than 
at  any  reputable  club  in  New  York,  but  there 
is  a  great  deal  more  fun. 

For  instance,  there  is  the  Savage  Club,  con 
taining  quite  as  many  men  of  brains  as  any  of 
the  learned  societies.  It  resembles  the  Lotos 
Club  of  New  York  in  the  great  number  of 
dramatic  and  musical  artists  among  its  mem 
bers,  but  I  think  it  contains  a  larger  proportion 
of  literary  men.  The  Prince  of  Wales  is  a 
member,  with  a  great  many  other  prominent 
men.  Americans  who  amount  to  anything 
are  always  taken  to  the  Savage,  and  always 
enjoy  themselves  so  much  that  they  wish  they 
could  carry  the  whole  club,  members  and  all, 
back  to  America  with  them. 

Saturday  night  at  the  Savage  is  a  gala  day. 
Maybe  a  night  may  not  seem  a  day,  but  it  lasts 
nearly  as  long — at  the  Savage.  It  begins  with 
a  dinner  at  five  o'clock;  after  an  hour  or  two 
of  eating  and  drinking  the  tables  are  cleared, 
the  incense  of  burning  tobacco  begins  to  per 
fume  the  air,  and  the  chairman,  who  was  ap 
pointed  by  his  predecessor,  for  one  week  only, 
calls  on  some  member  to  do  something.  The 
member  must  respond;  apologies  are  never 
accepted.  A  man  may  sing  a  song,  tell  a  story, 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.         77 

"  speak  a  piece,"  or  make  faces.  As  the  pro 
fessional  members  do  not  have  to  be  on  the 
stage  until  an  hour  or  two  after  the  dinner  is 
over,  they  can  always  be  depended  upon  to 
open  the  Club's  evening  brilliantly.  After 
ward  the  other  members  do  their  best,  most  of 
which  is  very  good  ;  sometimes  a  sober  speech 
is  sandwiched  between  bits  of  fun,  but  nobody 
is  sorry,  for  a  fellow  isn't  going  to  get  on  his 
feet  before  a  lot  of  brainy  men  like  the  Savage 
Club  members  unless  he  has  something  to  say. 
Henry  M.  Stanley,  the  famous  African  trav 
eller,  has  made  some  capital  short  speeches  at 
the  Savage.  Before  any  one  realizes  how  the 
clock  has  been  behaving,  the  theatres  are  over 
the  actors  come  back,  bringing  some  of  their 
audiences  with  them,  and  the  new  blood  con 
tinues  to  "  whoop  'er  up."  So  pleasant  is  the 
"  feast  of  reason  and  flow  of  soul"  at  the  Sav 
age  that  the  Club  has  never  felt  the  need  even 
of  a  billiard-room.  There  is  no  more  formality 
there  than  at  a  Methodist  camp-meeting,  nor 
any  attempt  at  style  in  furnishing  the  rooms, 
but  the  members  don't  miss  it ;  I  really  believe 
a  Savage  man  would  rather  sit  on  a  stump,  if 
he  could  find  one,  than  in  an  easy-chair. 

The  fellows  at  the   Savage   are  particularly 
attentive  and  cordial  to  Americans ;  they  have 


78  The  People  I've  Smiled  With: 

done  countless  favors  to  me,  faster  than  I  could 
thank  them  for,  and  when  the  Fourth  of  July 
comes  around  they  very  often  put  an  Ameri 
can  in  the  chair.  The  Savage  is  an  ideal 
"Cave  of  Harmony,"  and  I  imagine  it's  one  of 
the  first  places  a  member  longs  for  when  he  is 
tired. 

I  had  a  specially  amusing  experience  at  the 
Savage  one  evening.  I  had  been  in  the  House 
of  Commons  that  day  to  hear  a  debate  on  the 
Irish  question,  and  noticed  that  one  of  the 
smart  Irish  members,  Mr.  Biggar,  had  a 
peculiar  delivery.  The  annual  dinner  of  the 
Savage  occurred  that  evening,  and  as  my  name 
was  on  the  list  as  "  Wilder,  M.  P.,"  I  took 
advantage  of  the  double  meaning  of  the 
initial  letters  to  say  I  would  imitate  one  of 
my  fellow-members.  Then  I  "  took  off  "  Mr. 
Biggar ;  from  the  amount  of  applause  that 
followed  I  imagined  I  had  made  a  hit ;  a 
moment  later  I  was  sure  of  it,  for  Biggar  him 
self,  who  was  present,  exclaimed,  loud  enough 
for  every  one  to  hear : 

"  Begorra,  I  didn't  know  there  were  two  of 
me." 

Another  club  that  "goes  in"  for  enjoyment, 
and  gets  it  every  time,  is  the  Lyric,  which  is 
what  a  New  York  boy  would  call  "  awful 


Recollections  if  a  Merry  Little  Life.        79 

toney."  The  Earl  of  Londesborough  is  chair 
man,  and  on  the  managing  committee  are  Sir 
Julius  Goldsmidt,  Lord  Charles  Beresford  the 
famous  sea-fighter,  Henry  Irving,  Lord  De 
Lisle,  Sir  Arthur  Sullivan,  Dr.  Morell  Macken 
zie,  Lord  Dudley,  and  Mr.  Bancroft,  while  the 
membership  is  of  very  high  order.  The  Lyric 
has  both  summer  and  winter  quarters ;  their 
town  house  is  on  Piccadilly  and  their  summer 
place  at  St.  Ann's,  where  they  have  a  water  front 
of  a  thousand  feet,  a  beautiful  lawn  and  gar 
den,  cricket  ground,  tennis  court,  etc.  They 
give  open-air  concerts  and  recitations  in 
warm  weather;  in  winter  they  give  parties, 
balls,  and  theatricals,  having  a  handsome  little 
theatre  in  their  town  house.  Applause  is  not 
always  as  loud  at  the  Lyric  as  at  the  Savage  > 
many  of  the  members  take  their  fun  gently, 
but  they  take  it  all  the  same,  and  can  stand  a 
great  deal  of  it.  They've  smiled  with  me 
frequently  and  in  large  numbers,  and  always 
treated  me  as  kindly  as  if  I  were  one  of  them 
selves,  instead  of  a  little  chap  from  the  other 
side  of  the  Atlantic. 

Another  amusement-loving  institution, 
noted  as  being  the  favorite  of  the  Prince  of 
Wales,  is  the  New  Club.  A  peculiarity  of  it  is 
that  the  entertainments  generally  are  given  at 


80  The  People  I've  Smiled   With: 

midnight ;  this  seems  to  have  come  about 
because  the  artists  upon  whom  the  club 
depends  are  disengaged  at  that  hour.  The 
New  Club  is  so  exclusive  that  if  a  fellow  is 
invited  there  he  is  pretty  sure  to  let  his  friends 
know  it. 

There  is  a  peculiar  club  in  London  called 
the  Odd  Volumes.  The  object  is 'conviviality 
and  mutual  admiration — so  the  form  of  invi 
tation  informs  the  visitor.  It  meets  once  a 
month  and  has  a  dinner;  each  member  con 
nected  with  it  publishes  a  book,  and  a  limited 
number  of  copies  is  given  to  each.  One  or  two 
are  saved  for  the  club,  and  then  the  manuscript 
and  the  type  and  everything  else  pertaining 
to  the  book  is  destroyed.  In  course  of  time 
these  volumes  become  very  valuable. 

One  of  the  most  enjoyable  clubs  is  called 
The  Gallery  ;  Sir  Coutts  Lindsay  is  its  leading 
spirit.  It  was  there  that  I  first  had  the 
pleasure  of  smiling  with  our  brilliant  fellow- 
countryman,  Bret  Harte,  who  is  a  London 
favorite.  Whistler,  the  artist,  1  saw  there 
also  ;  it  was  the  night  of  a  reception  given  the 
Prince  of  Wales,  but  "Jimmy/'  as  Whistler  is 
always  called  by  his  acquaintances,  strolled  in 
unconcernedly  in  white  duck  trousers,  a  little 
white  straw  hat  with  a  big  blue  band,  a  single 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.         81 

eye-glass,  a  merry  laugh  and  a  "  chipper " 
manner,  just  as  if  he  and  the  Prince  had 
swapped  jack-knives  and  been  fishing  together 
e/ver  since  Adam  was  a  boy.  Everybody  can 
tell  you  funny  stories  about  Whistler,  but 
everybody  likes  him,  so  of  course  he's  a  first- 
rate  fellow. 

An  American  visiting  English  clubs  is  sure 
to  be  surprised  at  the  number  of  titles  he  hears. 
Besides  the  nobility,  nearly  every  one  seems  to 
have  a  special  handle  to  his  name.  Colonels 
are  not  quite  as  numerous  as  in  Kentucky  or 
Georgia,  but  for  Captains  and  Majors,  why,  we 
can't  hold  a  candle  to  them.  It  was  reserved 
for  me,  an  American,  to  "  knock  them  out  " 
on  rank  in  a  most  unexpected  manner.  An  old 
waiter — an  ex-soldier — at  the  Savage  called  me 
Marshall  several  times  one  evening,  and  was 
reprimanded  by  one  of  the  members  for 
addressing  a  guest  by  his  first  name.  "  His 
name!"  exclaimed  the  old  fellow,  looking 
astonished — and  then  turning  said,  "Why,  your 
honor,  I  thought  Marshal  his  rank  !  "  General 
Grant  prophesied  that  I  should  be  a  general, 
but  the  old  waiter  went  him  one  better,  and 
the  title  stuck  to  me  for  a  while,  too. 

Ah,  those  London  club  men  know  how  to 
enjoy  life  and  make  it  enjoyable  for  other 


82  The  People  I've  Smiled  With. 

people  !  Many  an  American  I've  met  and 
chatted  with  about  one  club  or  other,  where 
both  of  us  had  spent  whole  hours  and  evenings 
smiling  at  the  good  things  heard  and  seen.  To 
talk  about  them,  though,  when  three  thousand 
miles  away,  takes  the  smile  off  of  a  fellow's 
face  for  at  least  a  moment  or  two. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

HENRY  IRVING.— A  MOST  REMARKABLE  MAN.— DISCUSSED 
AS  AN  ACTOR — AGREED  UPON  AS  A  MAN. — HE  WAS  MY 
FRIEND. — ALWAYS  SAYS  AND  DOES  THE  RIGHT  THING. — 
MY  IMPUDENCE  AND  HIS  GOOD  NATURE.— ALWAYS  AT  HIS 
BEST. — NEVER  TALKS  OF  HIMSELF. — WHEN  DOES  HE 
SLEEP  ? — A  TALKING  FACE. — His  DELICATE  WAY  OF 
DOING  THINGS. — KIND  TO  AMERICANS. — His  LITTLE 
JOKE  ON  ME. — HENRY  IRVING,  JUNIOR. 

To  most  Americans  the  biggest  man  In  all 
London  is  Henry  Irving,  and  I  don't  wonder 
at  it.  Even  before  he  came  over  here  and 
gave  his  matchless  representations  with  the 
best-trained  company  that  ever  has  played  in 
New  York,  Americans  who  were  abroad  knew 
a  great  deal  about  him.  It  is  the  proper  thing 
in  London  to  go  to  the  Lyceum  Theatre. 
Some  nights  the  house  is  crowded  and  some 
nights  there  seems  to  be  a  very  thin  audience, 
but  there  is  never  any  "  paper  "  used  to  fill 
the  seats,  and  there  is  always  some  one  there 
whom  you  would  not  miss  seeing  for  a  great 
deal. 

A  few  years  ago  one  of  the  London  weekly 
83 


84  The  People  I've  Smiled  With. 

papers,  I  think  it  was  Edmund  Yates's  World, 
published  a  cartoon  of  a  "  first  night "  at  the 
Lyceum,  and  all  the  faces  of  the  people  in  the 
stalls  and  boxes  were  those  of  men  well  known 
in  Europe  and  America.  There  was  little  or 
no  exaggeration  in  it.  A  man  in  London  will 
give  up  almost  anything  except  his  own  wed 
ding  or  the  burial  of  his  wife  in  order  to  "  take 
in"  a  first  night  at  the  Lyceum.  People  dis 
cuss  Irving  over  there  just  as  we  do  here. 
Some  are  tremendously  critical,  others  lauda 
tory  and  won't  stand  a  word  of  depreciation, 
but  both  sides  meet  on  common  ground  when 
they  come  to  talk  about  Irving's  personality. 

I  had  a  great  deal  to  do  with  Mr.  Irving 
when  I  was  in  London.  It  was  not  my  fault, 
for  he  made  a  great  deal  of  me.  I  never  had  a 
chance  to  impose  myself  upon  him,  for  so  sure 
as  anything  turned  up  in  which  it  seemed  to 
me  that  he  might  be  useful  to  me,  he  thought 
of  it  before  I  had  a  chance  to  do  so,  and  pre 
sented  himself  either  personally  or  by  letter  in 
exactly  the  right  way.  He  is  such  a  thorough 
gentleman  that  he  cannot  imagine  any  one 
else  being  otherwise,  and  that  sort  of  thing  is 
inexpressibly  delightful,  even  to  an  American 
from  the  backwoods  like  Yours  Truly. 

Irving  is  one  of  the  busiest  men  in  London. 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.        85 

No  theatre  manager  on  the  face  of  the  earth 
gives  closer  attention  to  all  the  details  of  his 
business,  but  Irving  has  such  a  solid  and  well- 
arranged  brain  that  he  can  attend  to  all  his 
private  business  and  yet  find  time  to  go  every 
where  he  wishes  to  see  anything,  or  go  where 
other  people  wish  to  see  him; and  between 
these  two  demands  upon  his  time  he  is  com 
pelled  to  be  almost  omnipresent. 

I  asked  some  one  how  it  was  that  Irving 
seemed  to  know  exactly  how  always  to  do  the 
right  thing  at  the  right  time.  The  answer 
was,  "  It  is  because  of  his  theatrical  training." 
I  doubt  it,  but  if  that  is  true  I  wish  all  my 
acquaintances  could  serve  an  apprenticeship 
upon  some  dramatic  stage,  Mr.  Irving's  pref 
erably. 

One  time  when  I  was  in  London,  and  knew 
Irving  was  coming  to  America,  I  thought  it 
would  be  a  good  thing  for  me  to  give  him  a  let 
ter  of  introduction.  That's  exactly  the  sort  of 
fool  I  was.  I  did  not  stop  for  a  moment  to 
think  that  he  was  known  here  a  hundred  times  as 
well  as  I  ;  but,  honestly,  it  occurred  to  me  that 
he  was  an  Englishman  and  I  was  an  American, 
and  consequently  I  could  do  him  some  good. 
So  I  went  around  to  the  theatre  and  I  said  to 
him  :  "  Mr.  Irving,  I  would  like  to  see  you  a 


86  The  People  I've  Smiled  With  : 

minute.  I  have  some  friends  in  America — " 
"  Ah,  yes,"  said  he,  "  my  dear  boy,  how  many 
seats  do  they  want  ?  They  shall  have  them." 
I  think  about  that  time  I  was  as  red  as  the  best 
boiled  lobster  that  any  one  ever  saw  at  Fulton 
Market,  but  I  succeeded  in  stammering  out : 
"  They  don't  want  any  seats  at  all ;  that  is  not 
what  I  came  for.  I  simply  wanted  to  tell  you 
that  these  friends  of  mine  in  America  would 
do  anything  in  the  world  for  me,  and  I'd  like 
to  give  you  a  letter  of  introduction  to  them." 
There  was  nothing  left  for  me  but  to  sit  down 
and  write  him  some  letters,  and  he  took  them 
all  very  kindly.  But  I  think  if  about  the 
time  I  took  pen  in  hand  he  had  got  up  and 
kicked  me  out  of  the  theatre,  I  should  have 
felt  a  great  deal  more  comfortable,  and  cer 
tainly  had  less  reason  to  despise  myself. 

Irving  is  an  absolute  wonder  to  me.  I  have 
had  to  make  it  a  business  to  study  prominent 
men  here  and  abroad,  and  of  course  I  made  a 
study  of  him,  but  the  more  I  observed  him  and 
listened  to  him,  the  more  astonished  I  was  at 
the  greatness  of  his  knowledge  and  the  breadth 
of  that  head  of  his.  People  tell  me  sometimes, 
"  You  ought  to  see  so-and-so  at  such  a  place 
if  you  want  to  see  him  at  his  best."  Well,  I 
have  seen  Irving  everywhere, — at  receptions, 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.         87 

theatres,  clubs,  and  in  the  streets.  I  have 
seen  him  riding,  have  seen  him  eating,  and 
I  never  yet  saw  him  when  he  was  not  at  his 
best. 

One  delightful  thing  about  him  is,  that  you 
never  hear  him  speak  of  himself  ;  and  another, 
which  is  like  unto  it,  is  this:  you  never  hear 
him  say  an  unkind  word  of  anybody  else.  I 
have  no  doubt  that  he  is  quite  as  good  a  judge 
of  human  nature  as  I,  but  that  is  nonsense,  for 
of  course  he  is  a  great  deal  better  one.  Never 
theless,  no  matter  whom  he  meets  he  has  the 
most  courteous  method  of  looking  at  them,  that 
one  can  imagine.  He  will  listen  to  the  longest 
and  most  ponderous  speech  in  the  world  by 
way  of  introduction,  and  not  appear  the  least 
bit  bored,  and  then,  the  moment  he  speaks, 
you,  or  whoever  he  is  speaking  to,  will  feel 
entirely  at  ease.  I  confess  that  after  I  had 
seen  him  a  few  times  I  was  completely  awed" 
when  in  his  presence.  If  he  does  not  know 
everything  about  everybody  that  stands  before 
him  for  an  instant,  then  I  am  no  judge  of 
human  nature.  He  will  look  at  you  as  cour 
teously  as  if  you  were  the  Prince  of  Wales  or 
President  of  the  United  States,  but  all  the 
while,  if  you  have  any  eyes  in  your  head,  you 
are  obliged  to  see  that  he  is  looking  you 


88  The  People  I've  Smiled  With  : 

through  and  through  and  taking  your  measure 
entirely. 

I  expected  to  see  him  off  his  dignity,  per 
haps  occasionally  out  of  temper,  at  his  theater. 
If  a  manager  cannot  get  out  of  temper  in  his 
own  theatre,  where  on  earth  can  he  ?  But  no  ; 
in  spite  of  the  little  quarrels  and  troubles  and 
tiffs  that  go  on  in  every  dramatic  company  on 
the  face  of  the  earth,  and  probably  every  other 
company  besides,  Mr.  Irving  is  imperturbable, 
cool,  and  smiling,  brushing  away  all  other 
people's  difficulties  in  the  gentlest  manner  in 
the  world,  and  never  intimating  by  look,  word, 
or  deed  that  he  has  any  whatever  of  his  own. 
No  matter  how  small  the  difference  that  may 
occur  between  two  of  his  people,  he  never  says 
an  unkind  word  to  either,  but  devotes  himself 
to  adjusting  the  difficulty  and  leaving  both  of 
them  better  pleased  with  each  other  than  they 
ever  were  before,  and  with  a  new  and  grateful 
appreciation  of  the  tact  of  the  manager. 

One  of  his  young  men,  Weedon  Grossmith, 
told  me  of  his  own  first  appearance  at  the 
Lyceum,  and  how  uncomfortable  he  was.  He 
felt  that  he  was  on  the  boards  of  the  first 
theatre  in  England,  with  the  leading  actor  of 
the  English-speaking  race,  and  before  one  of 
the  most  critical  audiences  of  London.  Well, 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.         89 

when  he  came  out  to  speak  his  lines,  he  felt  as 
if  the  roof  of  his  mouth  and  the  tip  of  his 
tongue  were  glued  together,  and  his  knees 
shook  beneath  him  every  time  that  Irving 
came  in  sight.  But  Irving  would  go  up  to 
him,  pat  him  on  the  shoulder,  and  say  :  "  Don't 
be  foolish,  my  dear  boy  ;  cheer  up.  I  am  with 
you;  you  are  doing  first  rate.  If  you  please 
me,  what  on  earth  have  you  to  worry  about 
regarding  other  peopl^  ?  " 

Irving  so  "laid  hirrrself  out  "  on  me,  as  the 
saying  is  over  here,  that  he  was  of  immense 
assistance  to  me  in  every  direction.  The  first 
time  he  heard  one  of  my  alleged  performances 
was  at  a  reception  given  by  Sir  Coutts  Lindsay. 
Well,  Irving  was  there  and  heard  me.  He 
turned  to  Bret  Harte  and  said,  "  Who  is  this 
little  chap  ?  "  Bret  Harte  told  him,  and  that 
evening  Irving  took  pains  to  meet  me  in  the 
coat-room  and,  said,  "See  here,  little  fellow  ;  I 
want  you  to  go  in  the  cab  with  me."  I  did  so. 
He  went  down  to  my  hotel,  and  we  sat  there 
talking  for  a  couple  of  hours  in  the  cool  morn 
ing  air.  He  asked  a  great  deal  about  America 
and  the  people  over  here,  and  sat  there  smoking 
and  listening  to  me,  putting  in  a  word  himself 
once  in  a  while,  but  evidently  more  anxious  to 
listen  than  to  talk.  He  spoke  of  the  many  kind 


9°  The  People  I've  Smiled  With  : 

friends  he  had  over  here  and  I  told  him  of 
others  whom  he  would  find,  but  all  the  while  I 
was  fearing  that  his  courtesy  to  me  was  de- 
priving  him  of  needed  rest.  I  learned  better 
afterward ;  he  is  what  we  call  a  regular  night- 
owl.  I  suppose  he  must  sleep  sometimes — 
humanity  cannot  get  along  without  it,  but  I 
don't  know  of  any  one  who  ever  saw  him  on 
his  way  home  to  go  to  bed.  I  remember  one 
night  very  late — long  after  the  theatre  had 
closed,  he  went  with  me  to  call  on  Charles 
Wyndham.  We  sat  there  chatting  for  a 
couple  of  hours,  and  suddenly  he  said,  "  I  guess 
I'll  run  over  and  see  Labouchere  for  an  hour." 
It  was  then  two  o'clock  in  the  morning.  He 
called  a  cab,  went  over  to  see  Labouchere,  and 
came  back  at  about  four  o'clock  just  as  Wynd 
ham  and  I  and  the  other  fellows  were  adjourn 
ing.  It  seems  as  if  he  never  slept.  They  say 
a  weasel  sleeps  with  one  eye  open ;  I  guess 
Irving  must  sleep  with  both  eyes  open. 

Irving  has  the  most  expressive  face  that  any 
one  can  imagine.  When  you  see  him  on  the 
stage  with  his  "  make-up  "  on,  it  is  expressive 
enough  for  any  purpose,  but  sitting  face  to 
face  with  him,  or  sitting  in  a  chair  en  tete-h-tete 
you  get  an  idea  of  his  features  that  no  stage 
representation,  behind  glaring  lights,  can  pos- 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.        91 

sibly  convey.  A  friend  of  his  told  me  a  story 
which  I  know  Mr.  Irving  nowadays  can  afford 
to  have  repeated.  It  was  about  a  law-suit  in 
which  he  was  brought  up  during  the  early  days 
of  his  dramatic  experience,  when  he  had  a  great 
deal  more  brains  than  money.  At  that  time 
he  was  playing  in  Manchester,  and  was  said  to 
be  dreamy,  and  allowing  his  mind  to  run  off 
his  business  all  the  while — very  much  as  is  the 
case  with  great  men  everywhere,  when  they 
are  brooding  over  something  new  to  precipitate 
upon  the  public.  He  had  run  up  a  great  many 
bills  which  he  was  unable  to  pay,  and  the  judge 
said  to  him  in  court :  "  So  here  you  are  !  Too 
young  a  man  to  have  been  spending  money  so 
fast.  You  have  been  living  too  fast,  and  here 
you  are."  Irving  did  not  speak  a  single  word, 
but  his  face  very  distinctly  said :  "  Well,  sir,  there 
were  two  or  three  chances  in  a  hundred  that  I 
would  fail.  I  have  had  to  be  among  some  people 
in  high  life.  I  have  had  to  live  above  my 
means  for  the  sake  of  the  m^.  *^s  I  expected  to 
make  afterward.  I  have  had  to  be  around 
among  these  people,  and  take  my  share  of  the 
expense,  so  as  to  make  a  point.  I  have  lost  it 
this  time,  but  I  am  willing  to  take  the  conse 
quences,  and  I  know  sooner  or  later  I  will  suc 
ceed."  "  He  said  all  this  by  his  expression," 


92  The  People  I've  Smiled  With  : 

said  this  friend  ;  "  it  was  impossible  to  read  it 
in  any  other  way." 

Like  all  other  great  men  Mr.  Irving  is  quite 
sensitive  in  spite  of  his  admirable  self-command; 
all  artists  are.  Why,  there's  Patti,  who  has 
been  on  the  stage  as  long  as  she  can  remember, 
yet  once  in  a  while  she  is  so  nervous  that  she 
can  scarcely  control  herself.  She  is  also  very 
sympathetic,  which  is  a  kindred  quality  to 
nervousness,  of  course.  One  night  I  saw  her  at 
the  Lyceum  Theatre  in  a  box  with  her  husband 
Nicolini,  Mr.  William  Beattie  Kingston  of  the 
London  Telegraph,  and  Henry  Ward  Beecher. 
Irving  and  Terry  were  on  the  stage  playing 
"  Faust,'*  and  Patti  cried  like  a  baby  all 
through  the  performance.  After  the  per 
formance  was  over,  Irving  went  into  the  box 
with  a  beautiful  fan  in  his  hand.  He  walked 
up  to  Patti  and  said,  "  Ah,  it's  rather  warm 
here,  isn't  it ;  fan  yourself."  She  took  the  fan, 
opened  it,  and  commenced  fanning  herself; 
pretty  soon  she  chanced  to  see  engraved  on  the 
side  of  one  of  the  ribs  of  the  fan,  "  Presented 
to  Madame  Patti  by  Henry  Irving."  That 
was  Mr.  Irving's  way  of  making  a  presentation 
speech. 

Irving  is  specially  kind  to  Americans.  He 
was  so  before  he  ever  came  over  here,  and  I 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.        93 

believe  before  he  ever  thought  of  coming  here. 
American  actors  of  all  degrees  can  testify  to 
his  courtesy  and  kindness,  not  only  to  the 
extent  of  seats  in  the  theatre  but  in  many 
more  substantial  ways.  Some  of  our  best 
actors  have  played  in  his  theatre,  and  their 
heartiest  encouragement  has  come  from  Mr. 
Irving  himself.  Like  all  other  great  men  he 
has  no  fear  of  rivalry.  No  one  enjoys  better 
acting  by  some  one  else  better  than  he. 

Beside  being  extremely  courteous,  Irving  can 
be  very  funny ;  no  one  can  tell  a  joke  better  than 
he.  Seated  close  beside  you,  where  he  does  not 
have  to  think  of  what  tone  of  voice  to  take,  is 
different  from  hearing  him  in  a  theatre  where 
he  has  probably  to  take  an  unnatural  tone  in 
order  to  carry  his  words  to  the  gallery  and  the 
extreme  wall  of  a  theatre.  His  voice  has 
charming  play  and  intonation,  and  when  he 
tells  a  story,  not  a  particle  of  the  point  can  be 
lost. 

Here  is  a  letter  which  Mr.  Irving  sent  me  in 
acknowledgment  of  a  lot  of  my  photographs 
sent  him  : 

"  Lyceum  Theatre,  2;th  July,  1886. 
"  DEAR  MR.  WILDER  :— 

"  I  ought  before  this  to  have  acknowledged 
your  photographs  which  you  so  kindly  sent  me. 


94  The  People  Fve  Smiled  With: 

They  pleasantly  remind  me  of  some  of  the 
genial  and  skilful  characterizations  that  I  have 
seen.  With  all  good  wishes,  sincerely  your 
friend, 

"  HENRY  IRVING." 

Mr.  Irving  knows  how  to  play  a  practical 
joke  once  in  a  while  without  being  at  all  ugly, 
and  yet  getting  enough  out  of  it  to  make  a 
very  amusing  story  afterward.  I  remember 
his  once  asking  me  whether  I  would  like  to 
go  down  and  entertain  a  party  of  Greeks.  I 
promptly  sent  my  mind  backward  to  my 
school  days  and  recalled  what  I  had  read  in 
Greek  history  about  the  peculiarities  of  the 
people,  and  I  made  up  my  mind  that  they 
would  be  very  easy  to  entertain  because  the 
Greek  character  was  so  intellectual.  When  I 
arrived  at  the  place  designated,  I  was  very  glad 
I  had  come,  and  I  mentally  patted  myself  on 
the  head  for  my  characterization  of  the  people, 
for  I  found  a  party  of  the  loveliest  ladies  im 
aginable,  magnificently  dressed,  and  a  lot  of 
gentlemen  of  fine  face  and  figure  and  with 
most  intellectual  countenances.  I  thought  I 
had  the  easiest  task  in  the  world  to  entertain 
them,  and  I  went  at  it  as  alabourof  love, — no, 
not  a  labour,  but  a  pleasure.  But  alas!  they  had 
no  appreciation  of  American  humour.  It  was  an 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.        95 

utterly  terrible  ordeal.  Jokes  that  the  most 
intelligent  people  over  here  would  simply 
double  up  at,  they  passed  by  as  merely  so  much 
wind.  Finally  I  completely  exhausted  myself 
and  lost  heart.  I  had  talked  for  half  an  hour 
with  no  visible  result,  and  then  to  add  to  my 
misery  the  hostess  came  to  me  and  said,  "  Now, 
Mr.  Wilder,  can't  you  say  something  funny." 
Imagine  my  feelings  !  I  said,  "  Madam,  I  assure 
you  I  have  done  the  best  I  could."  Then  I 
called  my  cab,  and  it  was  not  until  some  time 
afterward  that  I  learned,  through  some  of  the 
people  to  whom  Mr.  Irving  had  told  this  story 
in  his  inimitable  manner,  that  not  a  single  one 
of  the  party  understood  a  word  of  English. 
Whenever  afterward  I  had  occasion  to  pass  the 
door  of  the  house  where  I  met  these  Greeks,  or 
even  to  go  into  that  portion  of  London,  a  cold 
shiver  has  got  into  me  that  lasted  for  several 
minutes.  I  forgave  Irving  for  it,  though.  It 
was  worth  doing  for  the  sake  of  giving  him  such 
a  capital  story  to  tell  on  me. 

I  was  rather  startled  one  evening  at  a  recep 
tion  given  by  Charles  Wyndham,  of  the  Crite 
rion  Theatre, — an  actor  to  whom  thousands  of 
Americans  are  immensely  indebted  for  the 
fun  he  gave  them  when  he  was  over  here — at 
hearing  the  servant  announce  "  Henry  Irving, 


96  The  People  I've  Smiled  With: 

Jr."  Turning  around,  I  discovered  a  young 
man,  slender,  long-legged,  with  very  dark  hair 
and  heavy  eyebrows.  He  had  exactly  his 
father's  profile,  and  wore  eyeglasses.  He  is  a 
charming  fellow  to  talk  to,  and  very  proud 
indeed  of  his  name  and  parentage.  His  man 
ner  is  as  gentlemanly  as  his  father's — it  would 
be  impossible  to  praise  it  higher — and  he  has 
that  pleasant,  humourous  smile  which  his 
father  always  wears.  He  told  me  an  amusing 
story  of  an  incident  at  an  East  End  theatre 
where,  just  as  the  heroine  had  dropped  on  her 
knees  and  got  off  the  speech,  "Abandoned  ! 
Lost!  Oh,  heavens!  what  is  there  left  for 
me?"  and  the  curtain  was  coming  down,  a 
vendor  in  the  pit  shouted  out,  "Apples  ! 
Oranges  !  Pies  and  Cakes  !  " 

England  contains  a  great  many  famous  men, 
great  men  of  every  description,  men  whom 
Americans  may  do  well  to  study  and  imitate  ; 
but  after  several  seasons  in  London,  and  after 
having  had  all  notables  pointed  out  to  me  by 
kind  friends,  after  having  chatted  pleasantly 
with  most  of  them  and  been  kindly  treated  by 
all,  I  must  still  say  that  the  most  interesting 
man  in  all  England  for  an  American  to  study 
is  Henry  Irving. 


CHAPTER   XII. 

AMERICANS  IN  ENGLAND. — No  EXD  TO  THEM. — THEY  ARE 
WELL  TREATED. — NOT  FAIR  TO  OUR  MINISTER. — MR. 
PHELPS — FOURTH  OF  JULY  AT  THE  LEGATION.  —  AN 
AMERICAN  MONTK  CRISTO.— THE  SCHOOL  TREAT. — ENG 
LISH  SHOPS  AND  AMERICAN  CUSTOMERS.  —  HOWARD 
PAUL. — UNFORTUNATE  YANKEES. 

IF  I  wanted  to  meet  a  great  many  Americans 
and  could  not  look  into  heaven,  I  think  the 
next  place  I  should  prefer  to  go  would  be  Lon 
don.  I  always  meet  so  many  Americans  over 
there  that  I  am  almost  tempted  to  wonder 
whether  something  has  not  occurred  in  my 
own  country  to  clean  out  two  or  three  large 
cities,  and  send  abroad  everybody  who  has 
money  enough  to  take  care  of  themselves 
away  from  home,  as  well  as  quite  a  num 
ber  who  do  not  seem  to  be  in  that  enviable 
condition.  I  don't  at  all  wonder  that  Mr.  James 
Gordon  Bennett  has  begun  to  publish  a  daily 
edition  of  the  New  York  Herald  in  that  city. 
I  only  wonder  that  he  didn't  do  it  before,  for 
while  the  English  are  courteous  and  attentive 
to  Americans  in  almost  every  other  way,  they 

97 


9 8  The  People  I've  Smiled  With  : 

give  them  very  little  home  news  in  the  daily 
papers.  If  you  look  carefully  through  any  of 
the  leading  London  dailies  you  may  be  re 
warded  by  finding  a  New  York  date,  but  under 
it  all  the  information  you  will  get  will  be  that 
coffee  has  advanced  nir\e  points,  or  that  there 
was  a  little  flurry  in  some  railroad  shares  on 
the  Stock  Exchange  the  day  before.  News 
such  as  all  Americans  long  for  when  they  are 
away  from  home — some  of  them  to  the  extent 
of  cabling  over  specially  for  facts  about  mat 
ters  that  would  not  be  worth  thinking  about 
at  home — cannot  be  had  in  England  for  love 
or  money.  I  predict  an  immense  success  for 
Mr.  Bennett's  London  edition  of  the  Herald. 

I  can't  blame  Americans  for  flocking  to 
London,  and,  indeed,  to  England  in  general, 
for  all  who  deserve  it  are  quite  as  well  treated 
there  as  at  home  ;  better,  in  fact,  for,  as  already 
intimated  several  times  in  this  book,  English 
people  have  a  quantity  and  quality  of  leisure 
that  is  entirely  unknown  over  here.  For  an 
American  who  has  been  to  England  to  come 
back  and  say  the  English  people  are  boors,  or 
stiff,  or  suspicious,  or  unobliging,  is  to  say  that 
he  is  not  a  representative  American  himself. 
Some  of  our  people  have  come  to  grief  by  not 
knowing  exactly  how  to  act  in  certain  circum- 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.         99 

stances.  For  instance,  if  I  were  to  stop  a  man 
in  the  street  in  London  and  ask  him  a  question 
about  something  near  by,  he  would  stare  at  me 
an  instant  and  then  pass  on  in  silence ;  but  if  I 
were  to  say,  "I  beg  your  pardon,  but  I  am  an 
American,  and  I  should  be  very  glad  to  know 
about  so  and  so,"  he  would  be  quite  as  cour 
teous  and  obliging  as  a  Philadelphian,  and 
everybody  knows  that  a  Philadelphian  will  go 
without  his  dinner  for  the  sake  of  answering 
any  question  from  a  person  who  is  a  stranger 
in  that  city. 

A  great  deal  of  the  kindly  feeling  for  Ameri 
cans  in  England,  especially  in  London,  is  due 
to  the  courtesy  of  our  ministers  at  the  Court 
of  St.  James.  Mr.  Motley,  Mr.  Lowell,  Mr. 
Phelps,  and  others  have  been  unwearying 
in  their  endeavours  to  make  the  time  of  our 
travelling  public  pass  pleasantly.  I  doubt 
whether  any  one  who  has  not  been  in  the  dip 
lomatic  service  can  realize  the  amount  of  effort 
which  these  gentlemen  have  put  forth  in  mak 
ing  Americans  feel  at  home  in  the  mother 
country.  I  have  occasionally  heard  some  ill- 
natured  Americans  say  that  our  minister  in 
London  (if  he  didn't  happen  to  belong  to  the 
speaker's  own  political  party)  didn't  seem  to 
do  anything  except  look  after  Americans  so- 


ioo  The  People  I've  Smiled  With: 

cially,  but  for  my  part  I  cannot  see  how  he  has 
time  to  do  anything  else.  Most  Americans 
seem  to  think  this  is  all  the  minister  was 
put  there  for,  and  that  at  the  shortest  possible 
notice  our  minister  can  present  them  at  Court. 
Some  of  them  act  as  if  her  Majesty,  the 
Queen,  was  in  some  way  subject  to  the  orders 
of  the  American  minister,  and  that  all  that 
functionary  has  to  do,  when  one  of  his  country 
men  calls  upon  him,  is  to  ring  for  a  messen 
ger  boy,  send  him  to  the  Queen's  residence, 
and  ask  her  Majesty  to  get  into  her  robes  of 
state  and  her  best  crown,  and  be  prepared  to 
receive  an  immediate  call. 

My  own  experience  at  the  American  Lega 
tion  in  London  was  principally  during  the  term 
of  Minister  Phelps,  who  with  his  wife  has  kept 
open  house  in  delightful  style  ever  since  he 
went  over.  Every  Friday  afternoon  Mr.  Phelps 
would  give  a  reception,  at  which  any  American 
who  was  of  any  account  at  home  v/as  welcome, 
and  there  would  meet  many  of  his  fellow- 
countrymen  and  have  a  most  enjoyable  time. 
A  great  day  for  Americans  in  London  is  the 
Fourth  of  July,  and  then  admission  to  the 
Legation  is  necessarily  by  invitation,  for  it 
could  not  possibly  hold  one-tenth  of  all  who 
wish  to  go.  On  the  last  Fourth  of  July  when 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.       101 

I  was  there,  in  1887,  were  present  Mr.  Elaine, 
James  Russell  Lowell,  Mrs.  James  Brown 
Potter,  Mrs.  John  Bigelow  of  New  York,  Mrs. 
John  Sherwood,  Emma  Nevada,  and  a  number 
of  other  representative  Americans,  from  all  re 
spectable  classes  and  professions.  Of  course, 
nearly  everyone  who  did  not  receive  invitations 
felt  hurt,  and  some  of  them  wrote  ugly  letters 
to  the  American  newspapers;  but  I  speak 
from  personal  knowledge  when  I  say  if  they 
knew  the  circumstances  they  would  have  been 
glad  at  being  left  out,  for  the  place  was  so 
crowded  that  it  was  almost  impossible  to  move 
about.  Yet  Mr.  Phelps  and  his  wife  seemed 
omnipresent;  looking  after  their  guests  and 
seeing  that  by  no  chance  should  any  American 
fail  to  have  a  pleasant  time. 

There  is  one  very  famous  man  in  London 
who  deserves  more  than  passing  mention.  He 
is  Colonel  J.  T.  North.  I  am  sorry  that  he  does 
not  hail  from  the  United  States ;  but  he  is  an 
American,  nevertheless — a  South  American 
Monte  Cristo.  Although  he  is  an  Englishman 
by  birth,  nobody  ever  alludes  to  him  except  as 
an  American.  Thirty  years  ago  he  was  a  work 
man  at  Leeds,  earning  thirty  shillings  a  week, 
and  thinking  himself  remarkably  well  off  at 
that ;  he  was  shrewd,  intelligent,  and  clever, 


102  The  People  I've  Smiled  With: 

and  in  time  became  foreman  of  the  agricultural 
implement  factory  of  the  famous  firm  of 
Messrs.  Fowler.  His  employers  sent  him  to 
South  America  to  put  up  some  machinery,  and 
while  there  he  saw  an  opportunity  to  put  up  a 
fortune  for  himself.  He  became  interested  in 
railroads,  saw  the  fertilizing  advantages  of 
nitre,  obtained  control  of  vast  nitre-beds  by 
government  concessions,  amassed  millions,  be 
came  the  "  nitre  king,"  returned  to  England, 
and  bought  a  beautiful  country  place  in  Kent. 
His  wealth  and  ability  soon  made  him  a  leader 
both  in  business  and  society.  He  has  estab 
lished  new  enterprises  in  England,  and  for 
tunes  have  accumulated  rapidly  in  his  hands. 
He  became  popularly  known  as  "  North  the 
Money-maker."  He  was  offered  the  colonelcy 
of  a  volunteer  regiment,  and  made  Master  of  the 
Mid-Kent  Hounds,  a  title  which  I  suspect 
pleased  him  a  great  deal  the  more.  Now  the 
whole  world  and  his  wife  bows  to  him.  They 
not  only  bow  to  him,  but  they  run  after  him 
and  cling  to  the  skirts  of  his  coat. 

In  spite  of  all  his  business  responsibilities, 
Colonel  North  is  a  jolly,  good-natured  fellow, 
generous  to  his  friends,  kind  to  everybody,  and 
so  obliging  that  everybody  who  wishes  to  make 
money  tries  to  be  a  friend  of  his.  Whenever 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.       i°3 

a  scheme  is  up  for  making  money,  the  projec 
tors  go  first  to  Colonel  North,  and  if  they  secure 
him  the  fortune  of  that  enterprise  is  made. 
Wherever  the  Colonel  goes  in  business,  there 
goes  the  world  that  has  money  to  invest.  His 
name  seems  synonymous  with  immediate  and 
large  profit.  His  expenditures  are  liberal 
almost  beyond  belief.  If  he  takes  a  fancy  to 
a  thing  he  buys  it,  whether  it  be  a  horse,  a 
warehouse,  a  tavern,  or  a  historical  loom. 
Everybody  wh  3  the  city  knows  the 

old  Woulpack  Tavern.  Well,  the  Colonel  has 
bought  that.  He  bought  Kirkstall  Abbey,  and 
presented  it  to  his  native  town  of  Leeds.  He 
bought  Mr.  Frith's  latest  Academy  success, 
"  The  Road  to  Ruin,"  paying  6000  guineas  for 
it,  and  waiving  the  copyright  for  engraving. 
I  was  told  that  a  short  time  ago  the  Colonel 
started  to  float  a  South  American  bank  sub 
scription.  The  books  were  no  sooner  opened 
than  the  price  of  shares  shot  up  to  a  high  pre 
mium. 

The  first  time  I  met  the  Colonel  I  was  intro 
duced  to  him  by  an  American  friend, 
Horton,  who  lives  with  his  charming  family  at 
the  Victoria  Hotel  in  London  all  the  year 
round,  and  to  whom  I  am  indebted  for  many 
kind  and  thoughtful  acts.  I  went  out  to  Colonel 


104  The  People  I've  Smiled  With: 

North's  one  day  when  he  was  giving  what  is 
called  a  school-treat.  He  had  purchased  a  large 
tent  for  $5000 ;  I  asked  him,  "  Isn't  that  a 
good  deal  of  money  for  a  tent  for  an  occasion 
of  this  kind?"  "Well,"  said  he,  "I  do  this 
thing  once  or  twice  a  year,  and  every  time  I've 
hired  a  tent  I've  paid  almost  as  much  as  it  was 
worth,  so  now  I  have  bought  it." 

He  entertained  over  one  thousand  children 
that  afternoon,  and  had  a  number  of  famous 
artists  to  amuse  them.  The  school-treat,  as  it 
is  called  in  that  country,  is  something  not 
known  here.  They  take  all  the  scholars  of 
some  London  public  school  by  railroad,  in  the 
morning,  to  the  house  of  some  well-known  man 
to  enjoy  themselves  on  his  ground,  and  the 
owner  does  all  he  can  to  make  them  remember 
the  occasion  happily.  Besides  some  recitations 
and  music  of  a  high  order,  Colonel  North  had  a 
Punch  and  Judy  show,  and  a  neighbouring  min 
strel  show  with  what  the  English  call  "the 
correct  imitation  of  an  American  darkey."  A 
bountiful  lunch  was  provided,  and  Mrs.  North 
herself,  with  a  bevy  of  wonderfully  pretty 
young  ladies  in*big  white  housekeeping  aprons, 
were  busy  in  making  sandwiches  and  cutting 
up  other  wholesome  food.  The  affair  lasted 
from  ten  in  the  morning  till  five  in  the  after- 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.        105 

noon,  and  at  the  end  of  it  balloons  were  sent  up 
and  every  child  was  given  a  toy  of  some  kind. 
In  the  afternoon  the  children  were  all  grouped 
together  and  photographed  ;  then  they  marched 
off  for  tea  in  the  big  tent.  When  the  curate 
said  grace,  how  the  good  things  did  disappear  ! 
It  was  equal  to  the  newsboys'  picnic  on  one  of 
Starin's  barges.  I  am  sure  that  sort  of  thing 
would  go  well  in  the  United  States  in  the 
vicinity  of  New  York,  only  I  don't  know  ex 
actly  where  the  boys  would  look  for  a  Colonel 
North  to  give  it. 

Many  of  the  London  shops  make  great  ef 
forts  to  obtain  American  patronage,  for  there 
is  so  much  of  it.  Besides  travelling  Americans 
seem  to  care  so  little  for  the  value  of  money. 
They  will  buy  anything  they  fancy,  regardless 
of  the  price.  In  many  of  these  shops,  the 
American  flag  is  displayed  to  catch  the  passing 
Yankee.  There  is  only  one  brand  of  American 
whom  the  English  don't  like  ;  it  is  the  shop 
ping  fiend — the  person  who  goes  into  a  place, 
looks  at  everything,  asks  a  great  many  ques 
tions,  prices  almost  everything,  and  then  goes 
out  without  buying  anything.  It  is  the  Eng 
lish  custom  to  purchase  something,  no  matter 
how  little,  to  compensate  the  establishment  for 
whatever  trouble  you  may  have  made. 


106  The  People  I've  Smiled  With: 

One  American  who  has  been  on  the  other 
side  so  long  that  the  present  generation  would 
probably  regard  him  as  an  Englishman  born 
and  bred  is  Howard  Paul,  whom  old-timers  at 
the  theatres  here  will  remember  as  the  giver  of 
some  very  clever  entertainments  of  the  imper 
sonation  line.  Paul  has  made  London  his 
home  for  almost  fifty  years,  I  believe  ;  never- 
theless,  he  is  still  a  true  American, — nervous, 
excitable,  generous,  sociable,  humourous,  and, 
I  am  happy  to  say,  very  prosperous. 

There  are  some  Americans  in  London  to 
whom  I  would  rather  not  allude,  but  whom  I 
ought  to  mention  by  way  of  warning.  They 
are  those  who  have  gone  over  there  with  the 
desire  to  improve  their  financial  condition,  and 
with  a  vague  notion,  Micawber-like,  that  some 
thing  will  turn  up  to  their  advantage.  If  any 
of  my  readers  happen  to  belong  to  that  class — 
which  I  admit  contains  a  great  many  good  fel 
lows — I  beg  to  inform  them  London  is  the 
wrong  place  for  them.  The  American  who 
thinks  that  the  Englishman  is  a  stupid  fellow, 
whom  anybody  can  get  around  with  any  sort 
of  scheme,  is  bound  to  woeful  disappointment. 
He  is  doomed  to  come  back  home  in  the  steer 
age,  and  even  then  he  is  likely  to  get  his  ticket 
as  a  matter  of  chanty  from  the  American  Lega- 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.        I07 

tion  or  from  some  good-natured  brother  coun 
tryman.  I  found  a  great  many  Americans 
stranded  there  and  anxious  to  get  away.  A 
number  of  them  had  gone  over  there  with  the 
same  purpose  which  carried  me — that  is  to  say, 
to  give  entertainments,  but  they  did  not  seem 
to  have  learned  the  business  properly  before 
they  left  home.  Entertaining — that  is,  reading 
and  reciting,  singing,  playing,  etc. — has  become 
a  high  art  on  the  other  side  of  the  water,  and 
to  succeed  a  man  must  do  one  of  two  things  : 
he  must  either  be  better  than  anybody  else  in 
his  line,  or  he  must  strike  an  entirely  new  and 
original  vein. 

A  lot  of  these  good  fellows  and  women  seem 
to  think  that  they  would  do  first-rate  if  they 
could  only  get  the  indorsement  of  the  Prince 
of  Wales,  and  it  is  a  very  unpleasant  task  to 
try  to  make  them  understand  that  one  thing  is 
absolutely  pre-requisite  to  such  an  indorse 
ment  ;  and  that  is  ability  to  entertain  the 
Prince  of  Wales.  Some  people  have  it,  some 
haven't ;  that's  all  there  is  about  it.  All  that 
I  have  been  able  to  tell  them  on  the  subject  I 
have  very  cheerfully  done  and  I  propose  to  say 
something  about  it  later  on,  hoping  that  it  will 
make  the  way  easy  for  some,  and  keep  a  num 
ber  of  others  from  going  away  from  home. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

BUFFALO  BILL.— HE  MET  OLD  FRIENDS.— A  LION  IN 
SOCIETY. — NATE  SAULSBURY. — JACK  BURKE. — INDIANS  IN 
DRAWING-ROOMS. — I  ENTERTAINED  THEM. — A  PATRIOTIC 
EXPLANATION. — THE  BOYS  TOLD  STORIES.— ONE  ABOUT 
NED  BUNTLINE. — BUCK  TAYLOR'S  PIE. 

AMERICA  has  sent  a  great  many  famous 
beings  to  England,  and  the  English  have  al 
ways  taken  them  at  their  full  value.  We  sent 
them  Henry  Ward  Beecher,  the  horse  Iro- 
quois,  and  the  yacht  America.  We  sent  them 
John  Lothrop  Motley  and  George  Francis 
Train,  and  Lawrence  Barrett  and  McKee 
Rankin,  and  Minister  Phelps.  All  these  dis 
similar  beings  were  immensely  successful 
through  their  respective  merits.  But  the 
greatest,  most  unapproachable,  thoroughly 
howling  success  that  America  ever  sent  to 
London  was  Buffalo  Bill. 

Some  people  have  talked  of  Bill's  success  in 
London  as  being  strange.  It  was  not  strange 
at  all.  The  great  mass  of  the  English  people 
think  of  America  as  a  place  principally  infested 
by  Indians,  bears,  and  hunters,  and  they  took 
toS 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.       109 

Bill  and  his  show  as  a  sample  of  that  sort  of 
thing.  There  are  any  number  of  the  common 
people  who,  if  they  were  to  land  at  Castle 
Garden,  would  like  to  have  a  rifle  in  their  hands 
so  as  to  pick  off  a  buffalo  or  knock  a  grizzly 
out  of  a  high  tree,  and  I  have  no  doubt  many 
of  them  landing  in  that  way  keep  their  hands 
closely  pressed  to  the  top  of  their  heads,  for 
fear  that  a  savage  will  suddenly  start  out  of 
the  Field  Building  or  the  Produce  Exchange 
and  attempt  to  take  their  scalps.  I  do  not 
exactly  know  how  they  think  business  is  done 
in  New  York,  but  probably  they  imagine  that 
there  is  a  guard  of  soldiers  around  each  of  the 
banks  and  also  around  the  Stock  Exchange,  to 
keep  the  Indians  from  rushing  in  and  cleaning 
out  the  crowd  and  making  off  with  all  the 
plunder. 

But  these  were  not  the  only  people  who 
crowded  to  the  Wild  West  Show.  A  great 
many  English  noblemen  and  other  gentlemen 
have  been  coming  over  here  for  years  to  hunt 
big  game  ;  society  and  the  newspapers  haven't 
got  hold  of  them,  for  they  didn't  come  for  that 
sort  of  thing.  It  is  generally  the  bogus  noble- 
mer>  and  gentlemen  that  New  York  society  takes 
up  strongly  and  then  drops  in  a  hurry.  Well, 
these  people  always  went  West,  of  course,  in 


no  The  People  I've  Smiled  With: 

search  of  their  game,  and  consulted  our  army 
officers,  who  are  the  most  hospitable  and  atten 
tive  hosts  in  the  world,  and  the  officers  selected 
guides  for  them.  A  few  years  ago  Bill  was  the 
favorite  guide  for  any  army  officer  who  wanted 
to  go  out  to  look  for  game,  consequently  Bill 
was  guide  for  hundreds  of  these  gentlemen, 
and  they  discovered  what  a  splendid  good 
fellow  he  was.  First  they  learned  to  like -him, 
and  then  they  heartily  respected  him,  and  he 
never  did  anything  to  make  them  change  their 
opinion  of  him — he  could  not,  for  in  spite  of 
the  prairie  style  which  was  his  at  that  time,  he 
was  born  well  and  well-bred,  and  had  always 
kept  his  heart  and  his  manners  in  good  working 
order;  so  when  he  started  for  London  all  these 
people  remembered  him  and  talked  about  him. 
They  talked  about  him  a  long  time  before 
hand  ;  each  one  of  them  was  unconsciously  an 
advance  agent,  one  of  the  very  best  that 
possibly  could  be  provided. 

In  fact,  as  one  nobleman,  whose  name  I 
won't  give,  said  to  me  once,  confidentially,  "  It 
was  a  great  relief  to  me  to  have  Buffalo  Bill 
come  over  here.  I  have  done  a  great  deal  of 
shooting  in  the  West,  and  though  I  say  it  my 
self,  as  you  Americans  put  it,  I  did  it  pretty 
well.  But  I  brought  home  so  many  antlers, 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.        nt 

and  skins,  and  furs,  that  it  seemed  to  some  of 
my  acquaintances  I  must  have  got  some  of 
them  with  a  golden  bullet  or  at  least  with  a 
handful  of  silver  shot.  Bill  had  always  been 
my  guide,  so  he  no  sooner  landed  and  became 
acquainted  than  people  began  to  ask  him 
about  some  of  my  exploits.  They  repeated  to 
him  the  stones  I  had  told  them,  and  Bill,  being 
a  veracious  man,  had  to  admit  I  had  told  only 
the  truth.  In  fact,  he  sometimes  added  a 
point  or  two  which  I  had  omitted,  not  so 
much  out  of  modesty  as  for  fear  that  if  I  told 
the  whole  truth  nothing  that  I  said  would  be 
believed.  That  set  me  up  at  once  among  my 
acquaintances,  and  as  soon  as  some  other 
sportsmen  heard  of  it  they  also  hurried  to  Bill 
for  certificates  of  character  and  sportsman 
ship." 

But  this  was  not  all  of  it.  Bill  always 
seemed  to  know  exactly  what  to  do  and  say. 
I  have  heard  many  Englishmen,  and  many 
English  ladies,  talk  about  him,  and  all  were  as 
delighted  with  his  manners  and  personality  as 
with  his  show.  I  must  express  my  pride  and 
delight,  as  an  American,  at  the  figure  Bill  cut 
in  society.  He  fills  a  full-dress  suit  as  grace 
fully  as  he  does  the  hunter's  buckskins,  carries 
himself  as  elegantly  as  any  English  gentleman 


ii2  The  People  I've  Smiled  With: 

of  leisure,  uses  good  grammar,  speaks  with  a 
drawing-room  tone  of  voice,  and  moves  as 
leisurely  as  if  he  had  nothing  to  do  all  his  life 
but  exist  beautifully.  He  tells  a  good  joke, 
but  knows  when  not  to  carry  the  fun  too  far. 
Every  friend  he  has  made  over  there  I  am 
sure  he  has  kept.  I  ought  to  know,  for  most 
of  them  have  told  me  so  themselves. 

Bill  would  have  made  a  tremendous  success, 
all  alone  by  himself,  but  it  would  be  unfair  not 
to  admit  that  a  great  deal  of  the  popularity  and 
business  success  of  the  Wild  West  Show  was 
due  to  the  admirable  business  management  of 
William's  partner,  "  Nate  "  Saulsbury.  Nate 
is,  as  a  good  many  Americans  know,  quite  as 
much  of  a  character  in  his  way  as  Buffalo  Bill 
himself.  He  is  one  of  the  funniest  comedians 
who  ever  walked  the  American  boards,  and  can 
play  high  tragedy  besides,  but  to  see  him  at 
his  best  one  wants  to  see  him  among  a  few 
familiars  and  hear  him  tell  a  story.  He  tells  as 
much  with  his  face  as  he  does  with  his  tongue, 
and  that  is  saying  a  great  deal,  for  though  I 
have  heard  a  number  of  his  stories,  "  first  off," 
as  the  saying  is,  there  was  never  a  word  too 
much  or  a  word  too  little.  The  point  came  in 
exactly  right,  and  was  as  sharp  as  that  of  a  net 
tle,  though  it  never  stung  anybody.  Nate  was 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.      113 

quite  as  gentlemanly  as  Bill,  and  if  he  did  not 
make  as  much  of  a  name  over  there,  it  was  only 
because  lie  was  so  attentive  to  business  all  the 
while  that  he  had  not  much  time  to  go  about. 
Everyone,  however,  who  ever  met  him  wanted 
to  see  him  again,  and  knowing  his  sympathetic 
and  obliging  nature,  I  have  no  doubt  that  his 
principal  sorrow  in  England  was  that  he  could 
not  respond  to  all  the  invitations  which  were 
showered  upon  him. 

Another  American  who  contiibuted  largely 
to  the  success  of  the  Wild  West  Show  was 
Jack  Burke,  or  Major  John  Burke  as  he  is  fre 
quently  known  in  America,  though  all  his  old 
acquaintances  persist  in  calling  him  Jack. 
Jack  is  about  as  handsome  and  distinguished- 
looking  a  fellow  as  Buffalo  Bill  himself — tall, 
straight,  deep-chested,  with  a  fine  head  set  mag 
nificently  on  his  shoulders,  a  very  intelligent 
face  brimming  over  with  good-nature,  and  an  eye 
that  begins  to  laugh  as  soon  as  the  point  of 
anybody's  joke  is  reached.  Jack  is  one  of  the 
heartiest  fellows  the  Lord  ever  made.  How 
he  managed  to  get  through  all  his  business  and 
yet  have  time  to  talk  to  everybody  and  cap 
every  man's  joke  with  a  better  one,  is  one  of 
the  things  that  I  can't  find  out.  If  I  could,  I 
would  be  a  millionnaire  in  my  business  inside  of 


H4  The  People  I've  Smiled  With: 

five  years.  Jack  was  one  of  the  fellows  whom 
I  was  continually  meeting  wherever  I  went, 
and,  knowing  him  very  well,  I  used  to  make  my 
way  to  his  side  as  soon  as  possible.  The  num 
ber  of  times  I  have  heard  the  two  of  us  alluded 
to  as  "  the  long  and  the  short  of  it  " — reference 
of  course  being  to  our  comparative  sizes — can 
hardly  be  stated  by  all  the  figures  in  a  first- 
class  arithmetic. 

The  Wild  West  Show  was  almost  always 
crowded,  but  on  one  particular  occasion  I  saw 
an  audience  there  that  would  have  delighted 
the  soul  of  a  dynamiter  if  he  could  have  got 
in,  fully  prepared  for  practical  operations.  It 
was  a  private  exhibition  and  no  one  was  al 
lowed  to  be  present  except  the  invited  guests. 
There  was  more  royalty  there  than  had  been 
seen  together  outside  of  a  royal  residence  for 
a  long  while.  Th'erewere  the  Prince  and  Prin 
cess  of  Wales,  the  King  of  Saxony,  the  King 
of  Denmark,  the  King  of  Greece,  the  Crown 
Prince  of  Sweden  and  Norway,  Crown  Prince 
Rudolph  of  Austria,  the  hereditary  Prince  and 
Princess  of  Saxe-Meiningen,  Princess  Victoria 
of  Prussia,  Prince  George  of  Greece,  the  Duke 
of  Sparta,  Prince  Albert  Victor  of  Wales, 
Prince  George  of  Wales,  the  Princesses  Victo 
ria  and  Maud  of  Wales,  Prince  Louis  of  Baden, 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.      IT5 

and  a  great  number  of  notable  ladies  and  gen- 
tlemen-in-waiting.  But  the  dynamiter  wasn't 
there. 

Buffalo  Bill  was  entertained  almost  every 
where  while  he  was  in  London ;  so  were  a 
number  of  his  Indians.  People  never  seemed 
able  to  see  enough  of  these  redskins.  They 
didn't  stare  at  them  as  mere  curiosities,  as  some 
Americans  would,  but  they  would  first  go  to 
Major  Burke,  the  manager,  and  say  :  "Mr. 
Burke,  we'd  like  to  have  some  of  those  Indians 
drop  out  to  our  place — Red  Shirt  and  others, 
and  we'd  like  to  entertain  them  so  that  they 
would  have  a  good  time  as  well  as  we."  Well, 
Jack  Burke,  being  a  friend  of  mine,  would  fre 
quently  say,  "  I  guess  you  had  b.etter  go  and 
get  Marshall  Wilder,  the  American  humorist; 
he  is  just  the  man  to  have  on  hand  for  an  af 
fair  of  that  kind."  So  they  would  finally  send 
for  me.  I  would  go  there  with  the  rest  of.  the 
guests  and  attempt  to  entertain  the  Indians. 
I  got  up  a  programme  especially  for  them  and 
had  it  first  carefully  explained  to  the  whole 
gang  ;  then,  whenever  I  was  called  to  any  place 
where  they  were,  I  gave  the  same  old  enter 
tainment.  Of  course,  being  Indians,  they  could 
not  sing  out  ''Chestnut,"  and  they  learned 
to  know  just  when  the  point  would  come  in  so 


n6  The  People  I've  Smiled  With; 

they  would  laugh  about  the  right  time — laugh 
in  their  Indianic  way,  which  is  a  sort  of  grunt. 
It  made  me  feel  rather  sheepish  afterward, 
though,  when  the  hostess  would  come  to  me 
and  say,  "  Mr.  Wilder,  how  is  it  that  the  In 
dians,  who  don't  speak  English,  always  seem 
to  understand  you  ?  "  "  Oh,"  I  would  have 
to  say,  after  swallowing  part  of  my  conscience, 
"  it  isn't  at  all  difficult ;  art  is  everything  in  our 
country." 

It  was  very  funny  to  see  those  Indians  in  an 
English  parlor ;  they  would  sit,  with  their 
red  paint  on,  as  dignified  as  if  they  were  royal 
personages — and  about  half  of  them  really  did 
imagine  themselves  to  be  such,  in  their  own 
country.  If  they  were  called  upon  to  do  any 
thing  they  would  always  cheerfully  respond, 
generally  singing  a  love-song.  An  Indian  love- 
song  is  one  of  the  most  original  things  in  the 
world;  YOU  would  never  imagine  what  it  was 
unless  you  were  told,  and  then  you  would 
scarcely  believe  your  own  ears.  When  a  little 
present  was  given  them,  as  frequently  occurred, 
if  it  were  a  trinket  or  anything  shining,  their 
faces  would  brighten  up  in  spite  of  all  the 
paint  that  was  on  them.  Even  regarding  these 
Indians,  the  delicacy  of  British  hospitality 
showed  out  very  plainly.  I  knew  several  la- 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.      JI7 

dies  who  sent  cooks  away  out  to  the  Wild  West 
camp  where  the  Indians  belonged,  just  to  find 
out  how  they  cooked  their  meals,  so  that  every 
thing  that  was  set  before  them  should  please 
them.  That  is  the  way  the  English  have  of 
treating  everybody,  from  the  highest  to  the 
lowest,  when  they  attempt  to  entertain  them. 

Of  course  Bill  and  Nate  Saulsbury  and  Jack 
Burke  were  continually  importuned  for  stories, 
and  there  aren't  three  better  story-tellers  on 
the  face  of  the  earth.  So  if  the  reader  will 
remember  that  all  they  told  were  entirely  new, 
and  about  a  country  and  a  state  of  society — to 
wit,  that  of  our  Western  border — which  was 
entirely  new,  strange,  and  unimaginable  to 
most  of  the  English  people,  it  is  easy  to  un 
derstand  that  their  stories  were  immensely 
popular.  I  don't  propose  to  repeat  any  of 
them,  because  I  am  afraid  the  effect  would  be 
about  the  same  as  that  of  looking  at  an  object 
through  a  diminishing  glass.  Besides,  if  they 
want  their  stories  printed,  they  are  quite  com 
petent  to  do  it  themselves,  and  I  have  no 
doubt  they  could  do  it  a  great  deal  better 
than  I. 

When  it  came  to  some  of  the  cowboys,  how 
ever,  who  also  were  steadily  importuned  for 
stories,  there  was  a  little  drawing  of  the  long- 


n8  The  People  I've  Smiled  With: 

bow,  the  bow  itself  being  longer  than  any 
English  archer  ever  carried.  I  cannot  blame 
the  boys  for  it ;  some  of  the  Englishmen  swal 
lowed  everything  that  was  told  them  so  un- 
questioningly  that  it  was  hard  not  to  enlarge 
a  little  upon  the  facts,  to  put  it  mildly.  I 
remember  one  of  them  telling  about  bucking 
horses,  of  which  the  company  carried  over  a 
few  carefully  selected  samples.  An  English 
man  asked,  "  Why,  do  these  horses  really  buck 
when  they  are  in  America?"  The  cowboy 
replied  "Yes,"  and  the  Englishman  said  he 
had  an  impression  it  was  one  of  the  tricks  of 
the  business,  and  that  the  horses  were  taught 
to  buck.  "  Oh,  no,"  said  the  cowboy  ;  "  they 
are  born  that  way,  as  you  will  find  out  if  you 
ever  buy  an  Indian  pony  without  first  having 
him  examined  by  an  expert.  A  most  extraor 
dinary  thing  happened  to  me  once.  I  bought 
a  pony  in  a  hurry  and  jumped  on  his  back,  and 
he  turned  out  to  be  a  bucker.  He  kept  on' 
bucking  for  three  whole  days  and  nights." 
"  Why,"  asked  the  Englishman,  "how  did  you 
get  your  meals?"  "  Oh,"  said  the  cowboy, 
"  that  was  all  right ;  the  boys  kept  shying  bis 
cuits  at  me,  and  I  caught  them  on  the  fly." 
"  Well,  but  how  did  you  get  anything  to  drink  ?  " 
"  Well,"  said  the  cowboy,  "  we  were  near  a 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.       119 

little  brook,  and  every  time  the  horse  bucked 
I  scooped  up  a  little  water  in  my  hand  and 
drank  it  that  way."  I  don't  suppose  it  has  yet 
occurred  to  that  Englishman  that  the  brook 
could  not  be  over  the  fellow's  head,  and  that 
if  it  was  not  he  could  not  very  well  scoop 
water. 

One  of  Buffalo  Bill's  stories  I  will  venture  to 
tell,  because  he  gave  it  as  an  illustration  of  how 
bad  some  plays  could  be  ;  the  listeners  were 
all  dramatic  artists  themselves.  It  was  con 
cerning  the  time  when  he  was  an  actor  with 
Texas  Jack  in  a  play  by  Ned  Buntline, — a  play 
which  a  great  many  Americans  have  seen  and 
laughed  over.  Buntline  was  very  proud  of 
this  play,  but  one  night  when  he  chanced  to  be 
"  off  "  the  stage  Bill  arranged  with  the  manager 
to  reverse  the  order  of  proceedings,  and  begin! 
with  the  fourth  act,  then  play  the  third,  and 
then  the  second,  finishing  up  with  the  first  act, 
Buntline,  who  was  to  come  on  in  the  last  act, 
was  at  the  front  of  the  house  keeping  an  eye 
on  the  doorkeeper,  apparently,  and  he  did  not 
come  in  until  near  the  end  of  the  act,  and  was 
horrified  to  find  that  they  were  playing  the 
fourth  act  first.  He  ran  to  the  back  of  the 
stage  and  was  utterly  dazed  for  a  minute  or 
two ;  then  he  began  to  get  off  some  vocal  fire- 


120  The  People  I've  Smiled  With: 

works.  He  knew  that  he  was  sober,  and  after 
a  little  examination  satisfied  himself  he  was 
sane,  so  he  demanded  an  explanation.  "  Well," 
said  Bill,  "we  have  shifted  the  acts;  it  got 
monotonous  playing  in  the  regular  way  all  the 
time."  "  But,"  exclaimed  Buntline,  "  confound 
you,  you  will  ruin  everything!"  "Oh,  non 
sense  ! "  said  BiH,  "  the  audience  will  never 
know  the  difference."  And  I  don't  believe 
they  ever  did. 

Buck  Taylor,  one  of  Bill's  Wild  West  Com 
pany,  was  immensely  popular  over  in  England, 
and  Bill  told  a  story  about  him  apropos  of  the 
American  fondness  for  pie.  Buck  is  very  fond 
of  pie.  Bill  took  Buck  to  breakfast  with  him 
one  morning  in  Chicago.  They  were  at  one 
of  the  best  hotels  in  the  city,  and  Buck,  after 
eating  his  breakfast,  said  to  the  waiter,  "  Now, 
bring  me  some  pie."  The  waiter  was  a  girl, 
and  she  almost  shook  the  beautiful  crimps  off 
her  forehead  as  she  tossed  her  head  and  replied 
contemptuously,  "  We  don't  have  pie  for  break 
fast."  "Oh,  is  that  so?"  said  Buck;  "Well, 
when  do  you  have  it?"  "At  dinner,  sir." 
"Well,  when  is  dinner?"  "Twelve  o'clock,  sir." 
"All  right,"  said  he,  "  I  guess  I'll  stay  here  and 
wait  for  it."  And  there  at  that  table  sat  Buck 
Taylor,  solitary  and  alone,  from  the  time  that 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.      121 

the  breakfast  dishes  were  cleared  away  until 
dinner  was  served.  After  Bill  told  this  story 
Buck  Taylor  never  again  lacked  pie  for  break 
fast,  luncheon,  dinner,  and  afternoon  lunch, 
supper  or  midnight  meal,  so  long  as  he  was  in 
England. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

MY  SUCCESS  ABROAD.— No  SECRET  ABOUT  IT.— NEVER 
MADE  FUN  OF  THE  ENGLISH. — NOR  FORCED  MYSELF  UPON 
THEM. — INTERESTED  MYSELF  IN  MY  FRIENDS. — No 
"EFFETE"  NONSENSE. — DID  NOT  "TOADY." — No  FA 
VOURS  DEMANDED. — DRANK  NOTHING  STRONGER  THAN 
WATER. — WHEN  I  ADMIRED  ANYTHING  I  SAID  so. — PUT 
ON  No  "  AIRS." 

EVER  since  the  first  time  I  came  back  from 
London  and  began  to  talk  about  people  I  had 
met  and  good  times  I  had  had — I  don't  sup 
pose  any  fellow  can  help  talking  that  way, — 
people  have  asked  me  how  on  earth  it  all  hap 
pened,  and  they  have  looked  at  me  curiously 
as  if  they  were  trying  to  discover  the  secret 
of  it. 

There  is  no  secret  at  all  about  it  in  any  way, 
shape,  or  manner,  unless  it  is  I  went  there  de 
termined  to  be  jolly  under  all  circumstances 
and  I  lived  up  to  my  resolution.  I  discovered 
that  any  one  that  will  do  the  same  will  have  a 
good  time  wherever  he  goes.  Everybody 
likes  to  see  a  man  smile,  take  things  pleasantly, 
make  the  best  of  things,  and  I  have  been  in 

122 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.       I23 

training  for  that  sort  of  life  for  a  great  many 
years,  as  I  have  already  intimated  in  my  open 
ing  chapter. 

.  Perhaps  one  reason  that  I  got  along  very 
well  was  that  I  never  made  fun  of  English 
peculiarities,  and  I  took  great  pains  not  always 
to  be  telling  how  much  better  we  did  things 
in  America  than  they  do  over  there.  English 
people  are  sensitive  about  that  sort  of  thing, 
and  I  can't  see  how  in  that  respect  they  differ 
much  from  Americans.  All  my  readers  know 
what  they  think  of  Englishmen  or  Germans  or 
Frenchmen  who  come  over  here  and  spend  all 
their  time  in  explaining  how  their  country  is  a 
great  deal  better  than  ours.  I  never  got 
down  to  any  of  that  sort  of  nonsense.  When 
once  in  a  while — sometimes  oftener — I  noticed 
some  things  that  were  done  better  here  than 
there,  I  kept  it  to  myself,  gave  a  little  hurrah 
for  the  American  eagle  and  the  Stars  and 
Stripes — also  to  myself — but  I  never  said  any 
thing  about  it  to  my  kind  entertainers.  What 
ever  they  learned  from  me  about  America  they 
drew  out  of  me  by  persistent  questioning.  I 
never  was  backward  about  talking  of  my 
own  beloved  country  when  any  one  seemed 
interested  in  it,  but  I  never  "  ran  "  the  subject 
on  folks.  Very  early  in  life  I  heard  the  good 


124  The  People  I've  Smiled  With: 

old  maxim  that  though  you  may  lead  a  horse 
to  water  you  can't  make  him  drink,  so  I  never 
was  fool  enough  to  try  to  make  English  people 
believe  that  our  country  was  a  great  deal  bet 
ter  than  theirs.  If  I  believe  it,  that's  enough 
for  me.  If  I  want  them  to  believe  it,  I  wait 
until  I  get  them  over  here,  let  them  use  their 
own  eyes  and  ears  and  form  their  own  conclu 
sions,  for  I  know  perfectly  well  they  won't 
take  any  of  mine  instead.  When  I  met  a 
pleasant  man  or  woman  in  England,  I  did  ex 
actly  what  I  or  any  other  sensible  American 
would  do  here  in  similar  circumstances:  I 
made  myself  as  agreeable  as  I  could  in  a  gen 
tlemanly  way,  so  as  to  try  to  make  them 
friendly  to  me,  and  to  make  myself  friendly  to 
them,  and  it  very  seldom  failed  to  work. 

When  I  chanced  to  meet  any  of  the  dis 
agreeable  people  who  persisted  in  abusing 
America,  I  simply  changed  the  subject,  recall 
ing  an  old  story  of  a  fellow  who  was  going 
along  one  winter  on  the  frozen  lumps  on  the 
side  of  the  road,  and  grumbling  awfully  about 
the  unevenness  of  the'turf.  A  friend  who  heard 
him  growling  and  swearing  said  to  him  :  "You 
confounded  fool,  if  you  don't  like  the  ground 
that's  under  your  teet  why  don't  you  get  out 
in  the  smooth  road?"  Well,  that's  what  I  tried 


fa  collect  ions  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.       125 

to  do  in  England.  I  always  tried  to  get  into 
a  smooth  road  when  people  tried  to  make 
things  rocky  for  me.  Of  course  I  always  en 
deavored  to  behave  like  a  gentleman,  in  all 
circumstances.  Some  Americans  have  an  idi 
otic  idea  that  in  going  abroad  they  must  act  in 
a  manner  different  from  other  people,  or  they 
won't  be  recognized  for  Americans.  This  sort 
of  fool  has  done  our  country  a  great  deal  more 
harm  than  he  ever  can  atone  for.  I  tried  not 
to  be  this  sort  of  fool.  When  you  are  in 
Rome  do  as  the  Romans  do.  When  you  are 
in  Turkey  do  as  the  turkeys  do.  That  was 
my  motto  over  in  England.  I  didn't  find  it 
hard  to  live  up  to  it.  I  didn't  find  any  trouble 
in  acting  like  gentlemen  bred  and  born  there, 
and  consequently  nobody  could  find  any  fault 
with  me  for  being  "  one  of  those  rowdyish 
Americans " — an  expression  which  I  have 
heard  regarding  some  fellows  who  knew  a 
great  deal  better  than  to  act  that  way. 

I  always  tried  to  interest  myself  in  whatever 
was  interesting  my  entertainers,  and  to  give 
all  the  sympathy  I  could  in  whatever  matter 
was  being  talked  about.  I  never  for  an  in 
stant  imagined  myself  on  exhibition,  unless  I 
was  exhibiting  professionally.  If  men  were 
talking  politics  or  horse-racing,  or  if  women 


126  The  People  I've  Smiled  With: 

were  talking  about  dresses  or  babies,  I  listened 
respectfully,  joined  in  the  conversation  to  the 
best  of  my  ability,  and  assured  them  at  least 
that  they  had  a  good  listener.  I  don't  know 
of  anything  in  the  world  that  is  more  appre 
ciated  by  intelligent  people  than  a  steady, 
thoroughly  interested,  can't-wear-him-out  sort 
of  a  listener.  English  people  don't  differ  a  bit 
from  Americans  in  this  respect.  There  are  a 
great  many  of  them,  very  likely,  who  talk  for 
the  sake  of  freeing  their  own  minds — just  as  I 
do  sometimes,  and  you  too,  dear  reader,  I  sup 
pose. 

I  didn't  go  over  with  any  fool  notion 
that  England  and  the  other  nations  of 
Europe,  were  "  effete."  I  had  read  something  to 
that  effect  in  some  of  our  American  newspa 
pers,  but  fortunately  1  had  also  read  a  great 
deal  of  geography  and  history,  and  I  knew 
that  the  countries  of  Europe  were  quite  as 
wide-awake  as  we,  and  although  perhaps  they 
hadn't  as  many  opportunities,  nor  such  a  glo 
rious  climate,  nor  such  beautiful  women,  nor  a 
great  many  other  things  which  make  this  the 
most  glorious  land  in  the  world — for  us — they 
nevertheless  have  enough  to  keep  their  hands 
and  heads  and  hearts  very  busy.  Instead  of 
making  up  my  mind,  when  I  got  there,  that 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.      i*7 

they  were  a  great  way  behind  us  in  every 
respect,  I  saw  and  heard  a  great  deal  which 
taught  me  that  we  could  learn  a  great  deal 
from  them— just  as  we,  in  fact,  are  learning,  as 
any  of  our  artists,  authors,  inventors,  and  jour 
nalists  will  tell  you  on  the  quiet,  if  you  get 
them  alone  where  no  other  American  is  within 
hearing. 

Another  thing :  I  never  posed  for  a  curiosity, 
as  some  well-built  Americans  do ;  I  never  sat 
around  looking  and  acting  as  if  I  expected  to 
be  questioned  about  myself,  or  about  my 
country.  There  is  too  much  of  this  sort  of 
thing  about  some  otherwise  intelligent  Ameri 
cans  who  go  abroad.  They  seem  to  think  that 
they  come  from  a  terra  incognita,  and  that  in 
some  way  or  other  they  are  made  different 
from  other  people,  and  that  everybody  is  going 
to  recognize  the  difference,  look  at  them,  and 
talk  to  them  about  it. 

When  people  tried  to  make  a  great  deal  of 
me,  as  many  were  kind  enough  to  do,  I  did  my 
best  to  return  the  compliment.  English  people 
are  not  different  from  any  others  in  very  soon 
getting  tired  of  a  person  who  is  willing  to  be 
the  recipient  of  all  the  attention  that  is  going 
around  in  a  drawing-room  or  at  a  party.  As 
soon  as  any  one  seemed  to  devote  himself  or 


128  The  People  I've  Smiled  With  : 

herself  especially  to  me  I  tried  to  respond 
at  once.  If  I  got  a  compliment — as  occa 
sionally  I  did — I  tried  very  quickly  to  match  it 
and  "  go  one  better  "  if  possible.  English  peo 
ple  like  that  sort  of  thing.  If  they  didn't  they 
couldn't  possibly  have  been  the  ancestors  of 
Americans.  When  I  was  a  boy,  I  often  saw  a 
young  rooster,  just  because  he  was  permitted 
to  go  into  somebody  else's  yard,  immediately 
begin  to  act  as  if  he  were  cock  of  the  walk.  I 
am  not  that  sort  of  rooster.  I  have  seen  too 
many  of  that  kind  chased  out  and  made  to 
feel  so  bad  that  they  weren't  fit  to  go  into  any 
other  place  for  weeks  afterward. 

Although  I  never  was  forward  in  volunteer 
ing  remarks  about  my  own  country,  I  took 
care  to  avoid  the  opposite  extreme.  I  never 
toadied.  That  sort  of  thing  doesn't  please  the 
English  any  better  than  it  does  us.  Really, 
what  would  any  American  suppose  if  an  Eng 
lishman  were  to  come  over  here  and  go  into 
raptures  about  everything  that  he  saw,  and  try 
to  unmake  himself  and  act  as  if  he  weren't  an 
Englishman  at  all,  or,  if  he  were,  he  was  very 
much  ashamed  of  it,  and  would  be  an  Ameri 
can  just  as  soon  as  he  possibly  could  ?  There 
is  no  place  on  the  face  of  the  earth  where  an 
American  dude  and  toady  is  so  heartily  de- 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.       I29 

spised  as  he  is  in  the  country  whose  gentlemen 
he  imitates. 

By  the  way,  it  isn't  the  English  gentleman 
that  the  American  dude  imitates;  as  Bronson 
Howard  makes  one  of  his  characters  in  his  com 
ical  play,  "  The  Henrietta,"  very  truthfully 
say  :  "  It  isn't  the  Englishman  after  all  that 
we've  been  imitating  ;  it's  his  valet,  don't  you 
know?"  Much  as  I  went  about  in  England, 
I  never  saw  an  English  gentleman — no,  not  one, 
whose  manner  was  at  all  like  that  of  the  young 
American  swells  who  ape  the  English,  or  who 
are  said  to  do  so,  and  who  certainly  can't  have 
got  their  peculiar  style  by  imitating  anybody 
else,  for  .they  stick  to  the  English  language  in 
spite  of  all  their  monkeying. 

When  I  got  acquainted  with  people  I  didn't 
immediately  freeze  to  them  as  if  they  were 
long-lost  brothers  of  mine,  and  act — well,  about 
as  some  people  in  the  United  States  do  after 
they  have  known  a  man  ten  minutes.  I  never 
introduced  a  new  acquaintance  as  "  my  old 
and  particular  friend,"  as  is  the  custom  in  some 
parts  of  the  United  States.  I  have  no  objec 
tions  to  forming  a  strong  friendship  quickly 
for  a  man  who  is  worth  it.  In  some  parts  of 
the  world  it  is  absolutely  necessary,  but  over 
in  England  it  isn't  the  custom.  They  have 


130  The  People  I've  Smiled  With  : 

ample  leisure  there;  they  can  take  time  to  get 
acquainted,  and  the  consequence  is  they  are 
not  as  badly  "  let  in  "  by  new  acquaintances  as 
Americans  frequently  are.  It  is  pretty  hard 
for  an  adventurer  to  go  into  English  society 
and  succeed  as  well  as  he  frequently  does  here. 
The  very  speed  with  which  he  works  will  make 
him  an  object  of  suspicion. 

Another  thing  which  I  carefully  avoided  was 
the  asking  of  favours.  I  had  to  accept  a  great 
many,  and  I  did  it  gratefully,  but  I  never  made 
the  awful  blunder  which  many  people  make — 
strangers  in  a  strange  land — to  imagine  that 
their  position  justifies  them  in  inflicting  their 
necessities  and  personal  troubles  upon  other 
people.  It  is  true  that  I  had  no  occasion, 
financial  or  otherwise,  to  impose  myself  upon 
the  good-hearted  natives  of  the  British  Isle ; 
but,  suppose  I  had,  I  should  have  been  far 
more  careful  about  doing  it  than  I  would  in 
any  place  at  home  in  the  United  States.  A 
good  many  Americans  fail  to  observe  this  rule. 
They  lay  all  their  troubles  and  mistakes  and 
worries  to  the  country,  and  they  seem  to  want 
to  take  it  out  of  the  natives — even  out  of  those 
who  have  been  most  kind  to  them  and  are 
most  thoughtful  of  their  comforts.  The  class 
of  travellers  known  as  "globe-trotters"  have 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.        131 

done  the  reputation  of  our  people  a  great  deal 
of  harm  in  England,  and  I  determined  to  do 
something,  if  only  a  very  little,  on  the  other 
side  to  take  the  bad  taste  out  of  the  mouths  of 
some  of  them. 

When  I  saw  something  being  done  either  in 
society  or  at  a  club,  or  in  Parliament,  or  at  a  din 
ner,  that  was  quite  different  from  the  way  that 
we  do  the  same  sort  of  thing  in  America,  I 
didn't  put  on  a  silly  smile  and  remark,  "  How 
funny!"  as  a  great  many  other  Americans  have 
been  known  to  do  in  England.  If  an  English 
man  says  that  sort  of  thing  here,  it  makes 
the  natives  feel  very  hot  under  the  collar,  and 
I  never  forgot  that  Englishmen  and  Americans 
are  made  of  very  much  the  same  blood  and 
muscle  and  have  about  the  same  sort  of  tem 
pers. 

Another  thing  I  may  say  by  way  of  both 
warning  and  encouragement  to  Americans  ;  and 
that  is,  that  all  the  while  I  was  in  England 
I  drank  nothing  stronger  than  water.  It  saved 
me  a  great  deal  of  trouble.  Much  liquor  is 
drunk  in  England ;  the  natives  can  stand  it ; 
the  air  isn't  exactly  like  ours ;  it  isn't  as  exhil 
arating,  and  people  can  stand  more  stimulants 
without  feeling  uncomfortable :  but  you  have 
to  get  thoroughly  acclimated  there  before  you 


132  The  People  I've  Smiled  With  : 

can  do  it.  I  don't  know  what  is  the  period  of 
acclimatization,  but  from  the  condition  of  some 
Americans  I  have  seen  over  there  I  should  say 
it  wasn't  safe  to  drink  a  drop  in  less  than  forty 
years  after  arrival.  Even  then  it  isn't  quite  as 
safe  as  letting  it  alone.  Some  Americans  drink 
freely  because  they  think  the  natives  would  be 
offended  if  they  didn't,  but  there  isn't  any  such 
backwoods  idea  of  manners  among  the  Eng 
lish  people.  No  fellow  draws  a  pistol  on  you 
if  you  refuse  to  take  a  brandy-and-soda  with 
him.  Nobody  feels  you  are  not  a  gentleman 
if  you  decline  the  wine  when  it's  passed  to  you 
at  dinner.  The  American  who  wants  to  keep 
his  eyes  and  ears  open,  and  have  a  real  good 
time  in  England,  had  better  sign  the  pledge 
before  he  starts.  If  he  must  be  a  drinking  man 
most  of  the  time  at  home,  he  will  have  the  con, 
solation  that  his  abstinence  for  two  or  three 
months  will  insure  him  a  good  drunken  time 
when  he  comes  back ;  he  wouldn't  take  a  hun 
dred  dollars  for  his  thirsty,  as  the  soldier  said 
on  coming  in  from  a  long  trip  on  the  plains 
where  he  hadn't  even  water  to  drink. 

One  rule  I  made  I  strictly  adhered  to  all  the 
time  I  was  in  England,  and  that  was,  when  I 
saw  anything  pleasant,  or  anything  that  in 
terested  me  very  much,  or  anything  which  I 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.        *33 

greatly  admired,  to  talk  about  it.  The  English 
like  that  sort  of  thing,  and  if  any  one  knows 
an  American  who  doesn't,  I  should  like  him  to 
introduce  me  to  the  fellow  and  let  me  study 
him  as  a  curiosity.  It  is  a  supposition  that 
only  people  of  new  countries  are  sensitive 
about  their  own  land  and  their  own  customs, 
but  it  is  a  great  mistake.  The  English  are  just 
as  sensitive  as  we,  just  as  proud  of  their  own 
institutions,  just  as  anxious  that  other  people 
should  like  them,  and  while  they  may  not  force 
them  upon  you  they  are  immensely  delighted 
jf  you  begin  the  subject  and  show  that  you 
have  seen  and  appreciate  them.  It  isn't  at 
all  a  hard  thing  to  do,  for  between  art  and 
science  and  politics  and  the  ordinary  busi 
ness  and  social  life  of  the  people,  there  is  an 
immense  deal  to  be  seen  and  admired  by  any 
American  who  has  a  clear  head  and  an  unpreju 
diced  heart.  I  wouldn't  trade  America  for 
England  if  all  the  other  foreign  countries  were 
thrown  in  to  boot,  including  the  diamond  fields 
of  South  Africa  for  my  own  special  benefit ; 
but  I  shall  never  forget  what  I  saw  there  that 
was  worthy  of  admiration,  and  I  shall  never 
cease  talking  to  English  people  about  it.  It 
amuses  them,  and  it  does  me  a  great  deal  of  good 
to  get  off  my  opinions  on  the  subject.  It  is 


134  The  People  I've  Smiled  With: 

very  pleasant  to  be  able  to  talk  anything  to 
people  whom  you  know  are  going  to  agree  thor 
oughly  with  just  what  you  say,  and  you  may 
count  upon  the  Englishman  doing  that,  when 
you  talk  about  his  country,  just  as  thoroughly 
as  if  he  were  a  Yankee  talking  about  Yankee- 
land. 

All  that  I  have  said  above  may  seem  very 
little  by  way  of  explanation  of  the  very  kind 
reception  I  met  everywhere  in  England,  and  of 
the  manner  in  which  I  succeeded  in  enjoying 
myself.  Nevertheless,  it  will  seem  explanation 
enough  to  any  other  American  who  has  been 
well  received  in  England  and  would  like  to  go 
back  there  again,  and  it  may  serve  as  warning 
and  information  to  some  Americans  who  still 
intend  to  go  over,  and  have  an  erroneous  idea 
of  the  English  people  and  their  nature  and  an 
undue  sense  of  their  own  importance. 

I  know  it  is  very  hard  for  an  American  not 
to  feel  that  he  is  the  finest  fellow  in  the  world. 
We  have  done  so  much  in  this  country,  made 
so  many  successes  with  greater  rapidity  than 
any  other  people  on  the  earth,  that  a  lot  of  our 
folks,  otherwise  very  good  fellows,  seem  of  the 
impression  that  they  are  superior  beings,  and 
that  they  must  act  accordingly,  and  expect 
every  one  else  to  acknowledge  it.  All  I  have  to 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little   Life.       *35 

say  to  such  fellows  is,  Don't  go  abroad  until  you 
get  that  nonsense  out  of  your  head.  You  won't 
make  any  friends,  and  you  will  lay  up  a  new 
stock  of  enemies.  Not  only  that,  you  will 
prejudice  a  lot  of  good  people  on  the  other 
side  against  a  lot  of  good  people  on  this  side, 
who  yet  may  be  waiting  to  go  over.  Don't  try 
to  be  bigger  than  yourself.  When  you  want  to 
crow,  do  it  from  your  own  perch ;  if  you  can't 
hold  your  tongue  when  you  are  on  other  fel 
lows',  don't  go  there. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

ANSWERS  TO  CORRESPONDENTS. — MY  RECITATIONS  ABROAD. 
— THE  RENOVATION  AND  ORNAMENTATION  OF  THE  CHEST 
NUT. — MARK  TWAIN  ON  CHESTNUTS. — How  I  HANDLED 
THEM. — Punch  EXPLAINS  FOR'^ME. — DEVISE  SOMETHING 
NEW. — THE  ENGLISH  LIKE  PUNS. — AN  HISTORIC  SPECI 
MEN. — RESPECT  OTHER  ARTISTS. — THE  LANDLORD  AND 
THE  DOG. — AN  IRISH  TOAST. — TAKING  BITS  OF  AMERICAN 
HUMOUR. — Too  MUCH  ADVICE. 

A  NUMBER  of  good  fellows  who  want  to  go 
abroad,  to  fill  their  own  pockets  while  filling 
the  English  countenance  with  smiles,  have 
asked  me  personally  or  by  letter  to  tell  them 
what  I  did  over  there,  and  how  I  did  it. 

I've  responded  to  the  best  of  my  ability  ; 
there's  no  hog  about  me,  as  the  Hebrew  said 
when  he  threw  away  a  ham  because  he  thought 
the  thunder-storm  was  heaven's  protest  against 
his  owning  forbidden  property.  To  spare  my 
feeble  pen,  however,  and  lessen  the  duties  of 
postal  clerks  and  letter-carriers,  I'm  going  to 
jot  down  right  here  as  much  about  my  working 
method  abroad  as  I  can  conveniently  recall. 

As  I  never  in  my  life  took  a  lesson  in  elocu- 
136 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.       *37 

tion,  I  sat  down  hard  on  my  personal  tastes 
and  didn't  spout  a  single  line  of  Shakespeare. 
I  talk  Shakespeare  to  myself  sometimes  ; — 
of  all  the  men  who  are  on  the  other  side  of  the 
river,  William  of  Avon  is  one  of  my  best 
friends,  but  I  don't  run  him  on  other  people. 
Neither  did  I  recite  Poe's  "  Raven  "  abroad  ; — 
I'd  too  often  been  made  ravin*  mad  about  it 
liere. 

If  I  had  to  define  my  work  abroad  in  the 
fewest  possible  words — say  for  the  purpose  of 
sending  it  to  some  one  by  cable,  at  my  own 
expense,  with  no  opposition  wire  to  keep  down 
rates,  and  I  had  to  borrow  the  money  to  pay 
the  tolls — I  should  say  that  it  consisted  entirely 
of  the  renovation  and  ornamentation  of  the 
chestnut.  In  the  lexicon  of  art  there's  no  such 
word  as  chestnut.  I  once  insisted  to  Mark 
Twain  that,  properly  speaking,  no  good  stones 
were  chestnuts,  and  Mark  drawled  out,  "  I 
agree  with  you,  my  boy  ;  if  you're  not  right 
about  it,  why  do  people  go  to  minstrel  shows  ? 
They  do  go,  you  know ;  nothing  can  keep 
them  away;  I  go  myself,  and  ^roar  hardest  at 
the  jokes  I  was  brought  up  on  when  I  was  a 
boy." 

I've  intimated  that  I  put  my  selected  chest 
nuts  through  a  course  of  renovation  and  orna- 


138  The  People  I've  Smiled  With  : 

ment.  How  did  I  do  it?  Well,  I  can  hardly 
explain  ;  but  I  gave  them  the  benefit  of  every 
gesture,  facial  change,  and  tone  of  voice  within 
my  command.  Punch  explained  my  method, 
perhaps,  in  a  few  lines,  which  followed  pic 
tures  they  printed  of  me,  from  a  lot  of  faces 
which  I  made  at  the  camera  of  Van  der  Weyde, 
the  famous  London  photographer : 

WILDER-GRAPHS. 

"  Here,  smiling,  -frowning,  doubting,  laughing, 
Lamenting,  thinking,  bowing,  chaffing, 
All  sorts  of  moods;  the  stronger,  milder, 
By  clever  little  Marshall  Wilder, 
As  reproduced  in  studies  made 
By  skilful   graver  Van  der  Weyde." 

(I  can't  let  pass  the  opportunity  of  ex 
pressing  my  admiration  for  the  endurance  of 
Mr.  Van  der  Weyde's  camera  and  the  artist 
also.  I  made  some  awful  faces  at  both,  yet 
the  camera  didn't  explode  and  the  genial  artist 
did  not  go  to  the  lunatic  asylum.) 

I  had  no  method  or  programme  ready  when 
I  reached  London.  I  left  that  to  be  deter 
mined  after  I  should  have  seen  and  heard 
what  the  English  already  were  getting.  I 
didn't  propose  to  carry  coals  to  Newcastle. 
If  an  aspirant  for  histrionic  honors  chooses  to 


Recollections  of  a  Little  Life.        139 

make  his  debut  in  Hamlet,  which  is  every  great 
tragedian's  masterpiece,  let  him  do  it,  if  he 
has  money  enough  to  keep  him  out  of  the 
poorhouse  and  to  bury  him  decently  when  he 
dies  of  disappointment.  I  wasn't  in  that  finan 
cial  condition  when  I  went  to  England. 

One  of  the  first  "  entertainers  "  I  saw  was 
Mr.  Corney  Grain,  who  has  been  immensely 
popular  for  years,  both  in  ti;e  famous  "  Ger 
man-Reed  "  entertainments  and  in  drawing- 
rooms.  Mr.  Grain  will  sit  down  at  a  piano 
and  with  his  very  good  voice  parody  a  famous 
song  in  perfect  taste  but  with  killing  effect ; 
his  "  Lost  Gown,"  adapted  from  Sullivan's 
"  Lost  Chord,"  is  worth  crossing  the  ocean  to 
hear.  I  wasn't  fool  enough  to  try  to  be  a  sec 
ond  Corney  Grain. 

George  Grossmith    is    another   wonderfully 
clever  entertainer  ;  nobody  admires  him  more 
than  I,  so  I  didn't  venture  into  his  presen 
Eric  Lewis  is  another ;  he  is  unapproachable 
in  his  line,  so  I  didn't  approach  him — or  try  to. 

They  have  minstrels  there,  too — Moore  and 
Burgess  have  been  running  for  a  third  of  a 
century.  I  think  I  know — and  sometimes 
"  do  " — all  the  minstrel  songs  and  jokes  devised 
since  Ham  gave  family  entertainments  in  the 
Ark,  but  when  I  saw  how  well  Moore  and  Bur- 


140  The  People  I've  Smiled  With  : 

gess  suited  the  London  people  I  dropped 
that  method  from  my  mind  like  an  intent 
to  kill. 

It  didn't  take  me  long  to  discover  that  the 
English  people  enjoyed  a  pun,  especially  if  it 
was  properly  dressed.  A  pun  is  always  in  or 
der  over  there  ;  I  never  saw  one  in  a  state  docu 
ment,  but  I  suppose  the  only  reason  was  that 
the  secretaries  of  state  forgot  to  offer  me  the 
freedom  of  their  pigeon-holes.  The  Court 
Journal  is  one  of  the  most  proper  and  sedate 
journals  in  England,  but  here  is  what  it  ven 
tured  to  "  come  "  on  your  humble  servant : 

"  Wild  Indians  from  the  United  States  are 
being  imported  very  fast.  They  will  be  one  of 
the  curiosities  of  the  season.  A  4Wild-er' 
white  man  has  also  arrived." 

The  Hon.  Edward  Everett  went  many  years 
ago  to  the  only  land  where  Bostonians  aren't 
superior  to  everybody  else.  Yet  again  and  again 
I've  heard  Englishmen  tell  of  the  time  when, 
at  a  dinner  in  London,  the  artist  Story  offered 
the  toast,  "  Here's  to  learning;  when  Ever-it 
rises  it  grows,"  and  Everett  rose  to  his  feet  and 
exclaimed :  "  I  beg  to  amend ;  '  Here's  to 
learning ;  when  ever  it  rises  it  grows,  but 
never  above  one  Story" 

I  "  took  my  cue  "  and  never  forgot  it ;  what- 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.        141 

ever  else  I  did, — sing,  gesticulate,  orate,  or 
make  faces,  I  didn't  fail  to  handle  some  puns 
for  all  they  were  worth.  Here  are  the  skele 
tons  of  two  or  three  that  "  took  "  well: 

Two  Englishmen  go  out  to  see  a  game  of 
base-ball.  One  knows  all  about  it,  and  tried  to 
explain  to  the  other  who  knows  nothing  of 
the  game:  "You  see  that  little  spot  there? 
We  call  it  the  home-plate.  Those  three  bags  are 
the  first  and  second  and  third  bases.  The 
white  lines  that  go  down  toward  the  first  and 
third  bases  we  call  the  foul  lines  ;  anything  that 
goes  inside  those  lines  is  fair,  but  if  the  ball  is 
struck  out  of  those  lines  it  is  foul." 

Just  at  that  moment  the  man  at  the  bat  hits  a 
"  liner  "  and  hits  the  poor  man  in  the  back  of  the 
head.  He  falls  over  senseless,  and  a  crowd  col 
lects  and  the  doctor  is  sent  for,  and  his  temples 
are  bathed,  and  finally  he  opens  his  eyes  very 
slowly  and  calls  his  friend,  and  says,  "What  was 
it  ?"  His  friend  says  it  was  a  "  foul."  "  Gra 
cious!  I  thought  it  was  a  mule." 

Another  base-ball  story  is  told  of  an  old  lady 
who  went  out  to  see  a  game  of  ball.  The 
catcher  was  up  close  behind  the  bat,  and  the 
striker  happened  to  hit  him  in  the  eye  and 
knocked  him  senseless.  The  umpire  says, 
"  Foul— not  out."  The  old  lady  said,  "  What  a 


142  The  People  I've  Smiled  With: 

* 

horrible  thing  that  he  was  hit  in  the  eye,  but  \ 
am  glad  it  is  not  out." 

Two  Irishmen  meeting  in  the  street  were  dis 
cussing  as  to  who  was  the  first  gladiator  ;  one 
said  it  was  Samson,  the  other  said  it  was  a 
man  by  the  name  of  John  L.  Sullivan.  An 
other  man  said  it  was  a  fellow  by  the  name  of 
McGinty,  and  he  proved  it  thus  :  McGinty  and 
his  wife  went  to  Ireland,  and  when  they  were 
half-way  over  the  water  his  wife  was  walking 
on  the  deck  and  happened  to  fall  over  the  side  ; 
a  whale  that  chanced  to  come  along  swallowed 
her  up.  McGinty  looked  over  and  saw  the 
whale  eat  his  wife,  and  says  he,  "  Well,  I'm  glad 
he  ate  her"  which  shows  he  was  the  first  gladia 
tor.  These  may  not  read  like  much,  but — I 
didn't  read  them — don't  you  see  ? 

When  my  name  appeared  on  the  programme 
with  other  artists,  I  took  care  to  consult  their 
tastes  and  preferences.  The  tenor  or  soprano 
who  is  to  sing  a  serious  solo  does  not  like  to 
appear  immediately  after  the  audience  has 
/laughed  at  something  humourous  ;  I  can  under- 
| stand  the  feeling,  and  I  always  yielded  to  it.  I 
would  change  places  with  anyone  and  trust  my 
self  to  "  catch  on,"  no  matter  when  I  might  ap 
pear.  I  never  had  any  of  the  feeling  of  per 
formers  who  thought  only  about  who  or  what 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.      143 

was  to  precede  and  follow  them ;  they  re 
mind  me  of  Governor  Bunn's  story  of  the  small 
boy  who,  when  his  mother  divided  an  orange 
between  him  and  his  brother,  ate  his  brother's 
half  first,  then  his  own,  and  afterward  cried  be 
cause  there  wasn't  a  third  half  lying  around 
somewhere. 

In  making  my  own  selections  I  took  pains  to 
exclude  anything  which  might  offend.  There 
are  people  and  things  which  may  be  abused 
from  stage  or  platform  in  England.  I  always 
kept  in  mind  the  story  of  the  three  travellers 
and  the  dog  who  arrived  at  a  hotel  at  about 
the  same  time.  The  landlord  didn't  like  dogs, 
but  he  exclaimed  :  "  Good-morning,  gentlemen, 
I'm  very  glad  to  see  you.  What  a  fine  dog  ! 
Yours,  sir?  "  (this  to  one  of  the  party.)  "  No, 
— not  mine,"  was  the  reply.  "  H'm  !  "  mused 
the  proprietor,  turning  to  another  man ; 
"  yours,  I  suppose  ?  "  "  No,"  answered  the 
man,  between  the  whisks  of  the  office-boy's 
brush.  "  Indeed  ?  I  should  greatly  like  to  own 
such  a  dog.  Of  course  (this  to  third  traveller) 
he  is  your  property,  sir  ?  "  "  Oh,  no  ;  I  never 
saw  him  before."  "  Well,"  said  the  landlord, 
taking  a  commanding  position  in  rear  of  the 
animal,  and  raising  his  heavily  shod  foot  to  the 
position  of  "aim,"  "  as  I  was  saying,  I  should 


144  The  People  I've  Smiled  With  : 

like  to  own  such  a  dog, — for  the  pleasure  (kick) 
of  getting  rid  of  him.  Get  out  (kick),  you 
worthless  cur !  " 

Many  as  are  the  quarrels  between  England 
and  Ireland,  it  isn't  safe  to  abuse  the  Irish  on 
English  soil.  I  never  tried  it,  having  had  no 
inclinations  that  way, —  too  many  of  my  good 
friends  are  Irishmen, — but  I  know  of  other 
men  being  called  to  account  for  it.  There  are 
many  fine  Irishmen  in  London,  as  the  natives 
are  free  to  admit.  Sometimes  the  two  races 
have  their  eyes  on  each  other,  but  it  is  a  case 
of  "  nip  and  tuck,"  as  American  boys  say. 
Farjeon,  the  novelist,  expressed  the  situation 
neatly  in  his  story,  at  the  Greenroom  Club 
dinner,  of  an  Irishman's  toast  to  an  English 
man  :  "  Here's  to  you,  as  good  as  you  are,  and 
here's  to  me,  as  bad  as  I  am  ;  but  as  good  as 
you  are  and  as  bad  as  I  am,  I'm  as  good  as 
you  are,  bad  as  I  am." 

The  American  habit  of  jumping  to  unex 
pected  conclusions  pleases  the  English  mightily 
when  properly  illustrated  by  a  story, — for  in 
stance,  like  Lou  Megargee's  story  of  the  Louis 
ville  dude  who  went  in  the  St.  James's  Hotel, 
New  York,  and  said  to  the  type-writing  damsel 
there,  "  I  would  like  to  have  you  write  a  letter 
for  me,  and  say  that  I  have  gone  to  Narra- 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.       T45 

gansett  Pier."  She  said,  "  How  do  you  spell 
Narragansett  ?  "  He  replied,  "  Can't  you  spell 
it  ?  "  "  No,"  she  said.  "  Why,"  he  exclaimed, 
"  everybody  in  New  York  ought  to  be  able  to 
spell  Narragansett."  "  Well,"  said  the  girl, 
"  if  you  want  me  to  write  it  you  must  spell  it 
for  me."  He  said,  thoughtfully,  "  Must  I  spell 
it  ?  "  "  Yes."  "  Well,"  he  said,  "  then  I  will 
go  to  Newport." 

American  stories  bounding  suddenly  from 
the  sentimental  to  the  practical  delight  Eng 
lish  people  of  the  better  class, — for  instance, 
the  following,  told  by  Harold  Fredericks  at  the 
Savage  Club  dinner  in  London  :  A  darkey  who 
was  fishing  had  a  little  boy  about  two  years  old 
at  his  side,  and  as  he  threw  trie  line  into  the 
water  the  little  chap  fell  in  also.  The  old 
darkey  plunged  in  and  brought  out  the  young 
ster,  squeezed  him  out,  and  stood  him  up  to 
dry.  A  clergyman  who  came  along  happened 
to  see  him,  and  said,  "  My  man,  you  have  done 
nobly — you  are  a  hero.  You  saved  that  boy's 
life."  "Well,"  said  the  darkey,  "I  didn't  do  dat 
to  sabe  his  life;  he  had  de  bait  in  his  pocket." 

It  has  been  said  humourists  must  not  enjoy 
their  own  humour,  and  if  they  enjoy  it  they 
must  never  show  it.  Artemus  Ward  never 
showed  his  appreciation  of  his  own  wit,  and 


146  The  People  I've  Smiled  With. 

therein  lay  his  charm.  Speaking  from  experi- 
ence,  I  think  that  a  man  must  always  enjoy 
his  own  joke,  if  he  wishes  to  make  it  suc 
ceed  with  others.  I  know  that  I  .laugh  at  the 
stories  I  tell,  not  because  they  are  mine,  but 
because  they  are  clever  sayings  of  other  peo 
ple,  I  merely  dressing  them  up  in  funny  style 
to  please  my  audience  and  prolong  their  lives. 
If  I  feel  that  a  story  has  pathos  or  fun  I  am 
always  sure  the  audience  will  think  so  too. 

I  am  afraid,  though,  that  I  am  offering  too 
much  advice — that  isn't  an  uncommon  fault  of 
men  to  whom  others  go  for  information.  I 
am  warned  by  a  story  which  Lionel  Brough 
told  at  the  dinner  of  the  Greenroom  Club.  A 
man  was  advised  by  his  doctor  to  take  better 
care  of  himself.  The  doctor  said  :  "  You  must 
go  to  bed  early,  eat  more  roast  beef,  drink  beef 
tea,  go  out  for  a  month's  rest  in  some  summer 
watering-place,  and  smoke  just  one  cigar  a 
day,  or  you  won't  live."  The  fellow  met  the 
doctor  about  a  month  afterward,  and  the 
doctor  said, ''You're  looking  better. '  "Well," 
he  replied,  "Doctor,  I  am  feeling  better.  I 
went  to  bed  early,  ate  more  roast  beef,  spent  a 
montrf  in^the  country,  and  took  great  care'  of 
myself,  but  that  one  cigar  a  day  nearly  killed 
me,  for  I  never  smoked  before." 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

ENGLISH  RESPECT  FOR  THE  DRAMATIC  PROFESSION. — THE 
LORD  MAYOR'S  DRAMATIC  RECEPTION.— WILSON  BAR 
RETT. — TOOLE. — ONE  OF  His  STORIES. — "  Gus"  HARRIS. — 
W.  S.  GILBERT.  —  SIR  ARTHUR  SULLIVAN.  —  CHARLES 
WYNDHAM.  —  MADAME  PATTI.  —  ENGLISH  THEATRES 
DON'T  EQUAL  OURS. 

IN  London  they  make  a  great  deal  more  of 
the  dramatic  profession  than  we  do  in  this 
country,  more's  the  pity  for  us.  Over  there 
an  artist  is  an  artist,  no  matter  what  his  par 
ticular  line  of  "business"  may  be,  and  the 
people  are  so  appreciative  that  a  good  actor  is 
sure  sooner  or  later  to  make  a  great  number 
of  important,  pleasing  and  valuable  acquain 
tances.  Mr.  Irving's  success  has  been  of  great 
service  to  his  profession  in  general  by  nerving 
up  a  number  of  theatrical  people  to  doing 
their  very  best,  so  as  to  earn  recognition  from 
the  people  who  make  and  unmake  celebrities. 

I  believe  no  English  actor  has  yet  been 
knighted,  but  the  honor  of  knighthood  has  been 
conferred  upon  some  musical  composers,  and 
men  who  are  supposed  to  speak  with  authority 

147 


148  The  People  I've  Smiled  With : 

are  prophesying  that  at  least  one  distinguished 
actor  will  shortly  have  a  distinguished  handle 
applied  to  his  name. 

I  have  said  a  great  deal  already  about  Mr. 
Irving — said  so  much  that  I  fear  hasty  mention 
of  other  distinguished  actors  and  actresses  may 
all  the  more  lay  me  open  to  a  charge  of  invidi 
ous  distinction  ;  but  really,  I  don't  mean  it ;  I 
have  done  only  what  other  people  do  when 
they  begin  to  talk  about  Irving.  I  have  run 
right  along  without  knowing  when  and  how  to 
stop.  I  don't  believe  there  is  a  Londoner  of 
any  consequence  who  would  not  do  exactly 
the  same  thing,  and  I  am  glad  to  say  that 
prominent  actors  in  other  theatres  besides  the 
Lyceum  are  quite  as  fond  of  Mr.  Irving  and  as 
enthusiastic  about  him  as  I. 

When  one  begins  to  count  up  the  distin 
guished  actors  and  actresses  of  the  London 
theatres  on  his  fingers,  he  finds  himself  in  need 
of  two  or  three  extra  pairs  of  hands.  Not  long 
ago  the  Lord  Mayor  of  London,  the  Right 
Hon.  Sir  Reginald  Hanson,  Bart.,  gave  a 
dramatic  lunch  at  the  Mansion  House,  and  was 
kind  enough  to  invite  me  to  meet  the  represen 
tative  members  of  the  profession.  His  invita 
tion  read  as  follows : 

"  The  Lord  Mayor  and  Lady  Mayoress  re- 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.       149 

quest  the  honor  of  the  company  of  Mr.  Mar 
shall  P.  Wilder  to  luncheon,  on  Wednesday, 
June  I5th,  at  2  o'clock.  Mansion  House,  Lon 
don.  An  early  reply  is  desired." 

Of  course,  I  went  and  enjoyed  myself  very 
much.  Music  was  supplied  by  the  Coldstream 
Band,  and  the  assemblage  was  brilliant.  Among 
those  present  were  Mr.  Henry  Irving,  Marie 
Roze,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Kendal,  Charles  Wynd- 
ham,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Bancroft,  Mrs.  Charles 
Matthews,  Mrs.  Beerbohm-Tree,  Mrs.  John 
Wood,  Mrs.  F.  Harrison,  J.  L.  Toole,  Ellen 
Terry,  Fred  Leslie,  Lionel  Brough,  Miss  Nellie 
Farren,  Herman  Vezin,  and  that  dear  old  lady, 
Mrs.  Keeley,  who  is  greatly  beloved  by  all  the 
theatrical  people  of  London  :  and  at  least  two 
hundred  other  dramatic  artists,  among  whom 
were  all  the  soubrettes  of  the  London  stage — 
how  quickly  Americans  present  found  them  !— 
Mr.  Edmund  Yates,  editor  of  the  London 
World,  Alderman  Sir  Robert  Garden,  Bart., 
Colonel  Mapleson,  whom  every  American 
knows,  Mr.  Pinero,  the  dramatic  author,  and  a 
number  of  others,  including  many  Americans. 

Of  course  there  was  a  formal  address.  Of 
course,  also,  Mr.  Irving  delivered  it,  and  it  was 
a  masterpiece,  as  all  his  addresses  are.  There 
was  also  a  funny  speech  which  had  to  be  made 


150  The  People  I've  Smiled  With: 

by  Mr.  Toole — not  that  Toole  insists  upon 
doing  such  things,  for  he  is  a  very  modest 
man,  but  all  the  other  comedians  admire  him 
^tr-jnuch  that  no  one  will  say  anything  for  fear 
that  Toole  will  find  an  excuse  for  being  quiet 
on  such  occasions. 

After  Henry  Irving  I  suppose  Wilson  Barrett 
is  the  London  actor  of  whom  Americans  would 
most  like  to  hear.  I  don't  blame  them  for  it, 
for,  besides  being  a  very  good  actor,  he  is  a 
splendid  fellow  in  every  respect.  He  is  a  pro 
nounced  Englishman  in  cast  of  countenance  and 
muscular  development,  and,  as  many  of  my 
American  readers  will  know,  he  has  a  very  ex 
pressive  eye  and  a  fine,  strong  face.  Although 
he  is  a  kind-hearted  fellow  and  never  climbs 
over  any  one  else  in  his  anxiety  to  get  to  the 
top,  he  got  there  all  the  same,  through  his  own 
persistent  endeavor.  Before  he  appeared  on 
the  stage  himself  he  was  a  manager  for  a  star, 
the  star  being  his  own  wife,  who  was  a  Miss 
Heath,  and  had  been  reader  to  the  Queen. 
Miss  Heath  was  a  very  beautiful  woman,  and 
in  marrying  her  Mr.  Barrett  simply  gave  a  new 
illustration  of  the  excellence  of  his  judgment 
of  human  nature.  As  a  manager  he  was  quite 
successful,  and  finally  started  out,  probably  by 
advice  of  his  wife,  as  an  actor,  and  played  sue- 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.      151 

cessfully  in  "  The  Silver  King,"  "  Hoodman 
Blind,"  and  other  strong  but  refined  melo 
dramatic  parts.  He  is  known  to  thousands  in 
America,  and  so  are  his  charming  daughters, 
and  I  know  all  my  readers  will  be  glad  to  learn 
that  he  expects  to  return  here  before  long. 

The  first  public  appearance,  properly  speak 
ing,  that  I  made  in  London  was  at  the  benefit 
given  to  Mr.  Wilson  Barrett.  I  was  very  ner 
vous  about  it,  too.  I  had  appeared  in  draw 
ing-rooms  and  done  very  well — so  the  people 
seemed  to  think — but  that  simply  made  me 
ambitious  to  score  a  success  in  public  also. 
When  my  time  came  to  "go  on,"  I  felt  more 
uncomfortable  than  ever,  for  the  gentleman 
who  had  preceded  me  in  the  entertainment 
was  a  great  success  in  London,  and  had  become 
a  popular  favourite.  As  I  went  upon  the  stage 
there  was  a  dead  silence,  and  I  felt  as  if  I  were 
shrinking  at  the  rate  of  a  foot  a  minute  ;  that 
experience  could  not  have  lasted  five  minutes 
without  there  being  considerably  less  than 
nothing  on  the  stage.  Finally  one  of  the 
crowd  cried  out :  "  I  see  him  ! "  Another  fel 
low  shouted,  "  Where  ?  "  "  Why,  he's  on 
there  !"  some  one  said.  "  Sure  enough,  there 
he  is!"  said  another  fellow,  and  then  still 
another  cried  out :  "  Stand  on  a  chair,  sonny!" 


f 
152  The  People  I've  Smiled  With: 

All  these  remarks  failed  to  help  me  in  the 
slightest  degree,  but  they  put  the  audience  in 
good  humour,  and  that  means  a  good  deal  to  a 
man  who  is  expected  to  do  anything.  Finally 
one  man  in  the  audience  cried  out :  "  Say, 
there,  don't  step  on  him  !  "  That  struck  my 
funny-spot,  so  I  began  laughing  with  the  audi 
ence,  and,  as  I  have  generally  discovered  else 
where,  when  I  begin  to  laugh  the  other  people 
do  it  too.  I  leave  them  to  explain  why.  The 
laughter  lasted  for  about  a  minute,  and  as  soon 
as  silence  was  restored  I  stepped  forward  and 
said :  "  I  have  done  what  I  came  for,  I  have 
made  you  laugh,"  and  off  I  went.  They  called 
me  back  at  once  ;  they  did  it  four  or  five  times 
more,  and  enabled  me  to  achieve  a  grand  suc 
cess.  That  was  my  first  public  appearance  in 
London,  and,  although  I  enjoyed  it  in  the 
end,  I  don't  care  about  ever  going  through  the 
beginning  of  it  again. 

A  London  actor,  whom  the  Americans  ought 
to  know  better,  is  the  famous  comedian  J. 
L.  Toole.  I  cannot  understand  those  of  my 
countrymen  who  go  to  see  Toole,  and  then 
come  away  and  say  that  he  isn't  much  of  an 
actor.  To  my  mind  he  is  simply  inimitable  in 
his  line,  but  he  is  so  much  of  an  artist  that  it 
takes  a  little  while  to  comprehend  the  extent 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.     /5^ 

and  finish  of  his  style.  He  is  a  wonderfully  eeen- 
featured  fellow,  quite  stout,  just  a  trifle  lame, 
wears  the  conventional  eye-glass,  and  cannot 
talk  to  you  without  telling  stories.  If  I  could 
remember  all  the  stories  that  Toole  told  me, 
I  would  not  have  to  use  a  chestnut  for  a  year. 
One  in  particular  I  recall  about  a  man  who  was 
addicted  to  drink  and  used  to  see  all  sorts  of 
things  double,  sometimes  having  them  doubled 
about  a  dozen  times.  Finally  he  stopped  drink 
ing,  and  about  three  years  afterward  he  called 
on  a  friend  who  had  two  boys — twins.  The 
resemblance  between  them  was  remarkable, 
and  as  they  wore  dressed  alike  it  was  impossi 
ble  for  any  one  but  the  parents  to  distinguish 
one  from  the  other.  The  proud  father  brought 
the  boys  down  into  the  parlour,  and  turning  to 
Mr.  Toole's  friend,  said:  "Charlie,  what  do 
you  think  of  this?  "  Charlie  looked  at  the  pair 
a  moment,  pinched  himself,  moved  about, 
rubbed  his  eyes,  seemed  to  remember  some 
thing,  and  finally  succeeded  in  saying,  "  I 
think  it  is  a  very  fine  boy."  He  would  not  own 
that  he  thought  he  saw  double. 

Mr.  Augustus  Harris  of  the  Drury  Lane 
Theatre,  who  is  called  "  Gus  "  by  all  his  friends, 
is  an  enterprising  fellow  who  has  been  quite 
successful  and  deserves  everything  that  he  has 


154  The  People  I've  Smiled  With. 

obtained.  He  is  celebrated  for  producing  pan. 
tomimes,  which  are  a  specialty  of  some  of  the 
theatres  of  London,  especially  about  Christmas 
time,  the  first  performance  being  always  given  on 
"boxing  night."  This  night  is  not,  as  an  Ameri 
can  may  suppose,  devoted  to  entertainments  of 
the  John  L.  Sullivan  order,  but  is  simply  the 
night  of  "  Boxing  Day,"  the  day  after  Christmas 
Day,  on  which  every  one  who  has  done  anything 
for  you,  or  says  he  has,  expects  a  Christmas 
"  box  "  or  gift.  Mr.  Harris  holds  the  lead  in  this 
sort  of  performance  and  entertainment,  and  he 
can  tell  funny  stones  about  boxing-night  experi 
ences  at  the  rate  of  about  one  for  each  person 
who  bought  a  ticket  of  admission.  Where  he 
hears  all  his  stones,  and  how  he  succeeds  in  re 
membering  them  in  addition  to  all  the  business 
which  he  attends  to  very  closely  in  all  its  c  e- 
tails,  I  do  not  know,  but  there  are  a  great  many 
things  that  no  fellow  can  find  out. 

The  first  time  I  ever  saw  W.  S.  Gilbert  in 
London  was  at  the  house  of  Lady  East,  in 
Twickenham.  I  went  there  to  entertain  a 
party  of  ladies  and  gentlemen,  and  saw  an 
English  home  so  lovely  that  I  could  hardly 
keep  my  mind  on  the  business  in  hand.  The 
professional  assistance  I  had  in  entertaining 
the  party  was  from  a  pianist,  but  the  company 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.       *55 

was  so  select  that  their  own  faces  and  manners 
were  inspiration  enough  for  any  one.  I  don't 
know  how  long  I  talked  and  smiled  and  made 
faces,  but  I  could  have  kept  it  up  all  day  in 
such  society.  While  I  was  talking  I  saw  a  face, 
in  the  audience  which  I  thought  I  recognized, 
but  was  not  able  to  place  it.  Finally  it 
occurred  to  me  that  it  looked  greatly  like 
the  pictures  of  W.  S.  Gilbert,  and  as  I  saw  that 
he  seemed  particularly  appreciative  and  very 
much  amused,  I  thought  I  must  be  mistaken, 
for  I  had  heard  that  Gilbert  was  very  sarcastic 
and  fastidious  and  a  hard  man  to  please. 

After  I  got  through  he  came  forward  and  I 
was  presented  to  him,  and  found  that  I  was 
right — he  really  was  Gilbert.  I  made  haste  to 
say  to  him :  "  You  acted  as  if  you  were 
amused,  but  I  didn^t  imagine  that  you  could 
appreciate  my  work."  "Oh,"  said  he,  "  but  I 
did,  very  much."  "  Well,"  I  made  bold  to 
say,  "  then  you  are  a  very  different  man  from 
what  I  had  imagined.  I  understood  that  you 
were  a  fellow  with  the  dyspepsia,  and  conse 
quently  never  could  see  anything  pleasant,  and 
were  always  gruff."  "  Oh,  well,"  said  he,  "  I 
am  gruff — to  some  people,"  and  then  he  spoke 
very  nicely  about  my  work  and  passed  on.  I 
remarked  to  myself,  "  Score  one  for  Wilder." 


156  The  People  I've  Smiled  With  : 

Sir  Arthur  Sullivan  I  met  several  times  in 
London,  and  each  time  liked  him  better  than 
before,  although  he  impressed  me  from  the 
first  as  a  most  cheerful,  courteous,  sympathetic 
gentleman.  I  first  met  him  at  the  house  of 
Mrs.  Ronalds,  of  whom  I  have  already  spoken, 
and  soon  afterward  he  invited  me  to  his  home, 
which  I  found  to  be  one  of  the  pleasantest 
bachelor  apartments  imaginable.  He  has  what 
in  New  York  we  would  call  a  "  flat,"  and  it 
contains  every  comfort  that  a  bachelor  could 
ask.  He  is  as  ingenious  in  mechanics  as  he 
is  in  music  ;  he  even  has  his  own  private 
machinery  for  generating  electricity  to  pro 
vide  light  for  his  apartments.  Although  he 
is  a  bachelor,  it  must  not  be  supposed  that  he 
has  only  himself  to  spend  money  upon.  He 
has  a  large  circle  of  relatives,  and  I  am  told 
that  he  takes  care  of  them  all  in  as  good  style 
as  if  he  were  a  father  and  they  were  members 
of  his  own  family. 

I  don't  know  whether  Madame  Patti  should 
be  called  a  Londoner,  but  she  seems  so  entirely 
at  home  there,  and  is  so  well  known  and  so 
frequently  mentioned,  that  it  is  impossible  to 
write  of  members  of  the  dramatic  profession 
there  without  recalling  her.  I  have  heard 
some  unkind  things  about  Madame  Patti  from 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.       *57 

people  who  don't  know  her,  but  never  a  word 
of  the  kind  from  any  of  her  acquaintances.  I 
have  heard  that  she  was  a  little  "  close,"  and 
given  to  be  unkind  to  others,  but  I  am  sure 
this  is  not  so.  The  peasants  who  live  about 
her  castle  in  Wales  all  worship  her,  and  any 
one  who  has  seen  even  a  little  of  the  English 
peasantry  will  agree  with  me  that  they  could 
not  feel  that  way  toward  Patti  unless  she  were 
very  liberal  at  heart  and  pocket.  I  have  heard 
of  numerous  instances  of  her  kindnesses.  I 
have  never  seen  her  in  New  York  without 
clever  little  Miss  Foster  near  her — a  little  lady 
who  must  be  rolled  about  in  a  chair  on  account 
of  physical  infirmities,  but  Patti  cares  for  her 
as  tenderly  as  if  she  were  her  mother,  and 
wants  her  always  with  her  at  her  hotel,  in  her 
dressing-room,  or  behind  the  scenes. 

Charles  Wyndham  is  an  actor  and  manager 
whom  no  American  in  London  cares  to  miss. 
His  style  and  that  of  his  company  is  pretty 
well  known  in  New  York  on  account  of  the 
rattling  comedies  which  they  gave  here  several 
years  ago,  and  which  still  are  talked  about. 
Americans  who  then  saw  Wyridham  never 
failed  to  urge  him  to  come  back  again  soon, 
but  I  suspect  that  he  is  so  busy  at  home  that 
he  daren't  think  much  about  going  abroad. 


158  The  People  I've  Smiled  With: 

He  is  quite  as  amusing  in  private  life  and 
among  his  acquaintances  as  he  is  on  the  stage, 
and  I  don't  know  what  more  could  be  said  of 
any  one,  for  I  never  was  able  to  keep  a  smile 
off  my  face  when  Wyndham  came  upon  the 
stage.  "Tisn't  necessary  that  he  should  speak 
any  lines.  The  twinkle  of  his  eye  and  the 
poses  that  he  can  take,  changing  rapidly  from 
one  to  another,  are  so  effective  that  were  he 
to  advertise  to  appear  in  pantomime,  instead  of 
spoken  comedy,  I  should  go  as  quickly  to  hear 
him,  and  expect  to  be  pleased  fully  as  much. 

In  one  respect  New  York  is  far  ahead  of 
London,  and  that  is  as  to  theatres.  Mr. 
Irving's  Lyceum  is  a  handsome  and  finely  ap 
pointed  building,  and  so  is  Charles  Wyndham's 
Criterion  Theatre,  but  the  other  houses  are  not 
equal  to  ours  either  in  the  appearance  of  the  au 
ditorium  or  the  setting  of  the  stage ;  nor  do  they 
pay  as  close  and  careful  attention  to  dress  on 
the  stage  as  we.  A  great  deal  of  their  scenery 
would  be  pronounced  too  shabby  for  anything 
if  displayed  in  any  of  our  first-class  houses. 
There  is  nothing  like  getting  used  to  a  thing, 
though,  as  the  old  woman  said  when  she  kissed 
her  cow,  and  an  American  soon  ceases  to  make 
comparison  when  an  English  company  gets  on 
the  stage  and  fairly  at  work. 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.     159 

The  oddest  thing  to  anybody  from  this  side 
of  the  water  is  to  pay  a  large  price — almost 
twice  the  American  rate — for  a  seat  in  the 
stalls,  as  they  are  called,  and  find  one's  self 
separated  by  only  a  thin  railing  from  the  pit, 
where  the  seats  cost  only  about  twenty-five 
cents.  The  pit  of  the  English  theatre  is  what 
the  top  gallery  is  here ;  the  gods  sit  there,  and 
a  most  amusing  lot  they  are  as  regards  attire 
and  manners. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

BEAUTIFUL  PARIS. — FRENCH  AS  I  ACT  IT. — IN  SEARCH  OF 
NAPOLEON'S  TOMB. — ORDERING  A  BATH. — RESTAURANT 
FRENCH. — LEGAL,  BUT  FRENCHY. — THE  CHAMPS  ELYSEES. 
FRENCH  GIRLS  NOT  AS  PRETTY  AS  OURS. —  CLEAN 
STREETS. — A  WAR  STORY  TO  THE  POINT.— SOME  OF  THE 
SIGHTS.— A  VANDERBILT  INCIDENT. 

WHEN  an  American  who  speaks  no  lan 
guage  but  his  own  goes  to  Paris  for  the 
first  time,  and  tries  to  make  his  way  around 
alone,  he  is  the  most  pitiable  object  on  the 
face  of  the  earth,  not  excepting  an  office-seeker 
at  Washington.  When  I  landed  there  I  could 
not  speak  a  word  of  French.  I  knew  that 
before  I  went.  My  entire  knowledge  of  French 
had  been  obtained  from  the  bill  of  fare  at  Del- 
monico's,  to  which  the  English  side  of  the  same 
bill  served  the  purpose  of  an  interlinear  trans- 
lation,  yet  I  was  confident  that  I  could  make 
my  way  about  by  the  use  of  my  mimetic 
powers.  Note  what  happened. 

The  first  place  I  wanted  to  see  was  the  tomb 
of  Napoleon.  I  had  never  been  a  soldier;  but 
he  had  been  a  very  small  man,  so  I  had  some 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Lijc.       t6i 

sympathy  with  him.  I  went  to  the  American 
Exchange,  hoping  to  be  started  right,  and  told 
a  man  there  what  I  wanted.  He  said:  "Al1 
right ;  just  take  that  'bus  out  there."  So  \ 
jumped  upon  the  bus,  not  waiting  for  it  to 
stop,  and  the  driver  shouted  at  me:  "Comflbtf 
Coinplct!  "  I  rolled  the  word  over  in  my  head 
several  times  and  then  tried  to  swallow  it,  but 
in  no  way  could  I  possibly  assimilate  it  with 
anything  I  had  ever  heard  before.  After  ma 
ture  deliberation  I  made  up  my  mind  that  he 
meant  that  I  could  either  go  on  top  or  stay 
inside.  How  two  words  exactly  alike  could 
mean  so  much  I  didn't  know,  but  I  was  willing 
to  admit  anything  for  a  language  which  I  hnd 
been  told  was  unusually  comprehensive.  I 
supposed  he  saw  I  was  lame,  and  didn't  care  to 
push  me  off  the  step,  so  I  remained  there,  al 
though  it  was  against  the  law,  as  I  discovered 
afterward,  the  stage  being  full — which  was 
what  he  meant  by  saying  "  Compftt  !  "  Then 
I  looked  up  cheerfully  and  confidentially  to  the 
conductor  and  said  :  "  I  want  to  go  to  the  tomb 
of  Napoleon."  He  shook  his  head  mournfully 
but  I  was  not  going  to  be  fooled  in  that  vvny, 
so  I  said:  "Hotel  dcs  Invaiides"  He  didn't 
seem  to  understand  that,  either,  so  I  threw  my 
head  on  one  side  and  placed  my  hand  under  it, 


162  The  People  I've  Smiled  With  : 

trying  to  imitate  a  person  who  was  very  ill. 
But  that  did  not  suggest  "  invalids  "  to  him  at 
all.  Then  I  said  again,  '"  I  want  to  see  the 
tomb  of  Napoleon/'  and  I  tried  different  ges 
tures  by  taking  my  cane  and  commencing  to 
dig  an  imaginary  grave  in  the  middle  of  the 
'bus  floor.  I  kept  at  it  until  I  buried  Napo 
leon,  as  it  were,  and  threw  back  all  the  dirt 
upon  him,  to  the  great  amazement  of  the  other 
passengers.  Finally  one  man,  who  had  been 
very  red  in  the  face  and  had  stuffed  his  hand 
kerchief  in  his  mouth  until  he  was  in  danger 
of  choking  to  death,  coughed  and  exclaimed : 
"  I'll  tell  him  what  you  want,  if  you  like." 
"  Great  Scott !  "  said  I,  "  you  don't  mean  to 
tell  me  that  you  speak  English,  and  have  heard 
me  struggling  with  this  conductor  so  long  with 
out  helping  me?"  But  the  fellow  shamelessly 
said  that  when  such  fun  as  that  was  going  on 
he  was  going  to  enjoy  it  for  all  it  was  worth, 
no  matter  if  it  killed  the  other  fellow.  Fi 
nally,  however,  he  told  the  driver  in  French 
what  I  wanted,  and  I  succeeded  in  reaching 
the  tomb  of  Napoleon.  I  wish  the  great  la 
mented  could  have  noted  my  efforts  to  get 
there — he  would  know  how  much  I  thought 
of  him. 

My  experience   reminded   me   of   a   story 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.      l63 

which  I  afterward  heard  Chauncey  Depew 
tell  regarding  a  man  who  went  to  Paris 
and  wanted  a  bath.  He  only  knew  one  word 
of  French  and  that  was  " garden ";  but  he 
began  bravely  "  Garden,  bring  up" — and  then 
he  described,  as  well  as  he  could  with  his 
hands  and  arms,  a  bath-tub,  and  ejaculated 
"  Sh— sh— sh,"  imitating  to  the  best  of  his 
ability  the  hissing  noise  of  water  passing  from 
the  faucet  into  the  tub.  The  waiter  smiled, 
shook  his  head  intelligently,  went  downstairs, 
and  brought  up  —  what  do  you  suppose? 
Why,  a  bottle  of  brandy  and  soda.  "Well," 
said  the  man  who  wanted  a  bath,  "  I  guess 
you  know  better  what  I  want  than  I  do  myself." 
He  was  not  as  badly  off,  though,  as  that 
other  American  who  went  over  there,  and, 
although  his  wife  advised  him  not  to  go  on  the 
street  without  an  interpreter,  he  made  up  his 
mind  one  day  when  he  was  hungry  and  saw  an 
attractive  looking  restaurant  that  he  could  suc 
ceed  in  getting  a  good  meal  without  speaking 
any  French.  He  was  a  methodical  fellow,  so 
he  picked  up  the  bill  of  fare  in  a  business-like 
way,  glanced  at  it  carelessly,  and  pointed  at  the 
very  first  item.  The  waiter  disappeared  and 
quickly  came  back  with  some  excellent  soup. 
"  I'll  tell  my  wife  about  this  when  I  reach  the 


164  The  People  I've  Smiled  With  : 

hotel,"  said  the  fellow,  smiling  to  himself  as  he 
emptied  the  plate.  Then  he  pointed  to  the 
second  item.  Quickly  the  waiter  filled  the 
order  ;  it  was  another  plate  of  soup,  of  a  dif 
ferent  kind,  but  the  man  was  pretty  hungry  ; 
soup  went  to  the  spot  that  day  with  him,  so 
he  didn't  object  to  two  plates.  Then  he 
skipped  one  item  and  pointed  to  the  fourth  on 
the  list.  Again  the  waiter  comprehended  and 
brought  him — another  plate  of  soup.  By  this 
time  people  at  the  surrounding  tables  were 
looking  at  him  in  a  manner  so  inquisitive,  in 
spite  of  traditional  French  politeness,  that  the 
fellow  became  confused,  and  to  avoid  eating 
any  more  soup  he  got  as  far  away  from  the 
head  of  the  list  as  he  possibly  could,  and 
pointed  at  the  very  last  item.  The  waiter 
swallowed  a  grin,  stepped  to  a  neighboring 
table,  and  reappeared  instantly  with  a  glass  of 
toothpicks.  Then  all  the  surrounding  diners 
laughed,  the  American  grew  very  red  in  the 
face,  and  started  away  with  such  rapidity  that 
he  almost  forgot  to  pay  his  bill. 

By  the  way,  I  didn't  learn  until  after  I  had 
stood  on  the  step  of  that  'bus  fora  long  while 
during  my  search  for  the  tomb  of  Napoleon  of 
the  double  risk  which  I  was  running.  If  I  had 
fallen  off  I  might  have  been  run  over,  and,  ac- 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.      165 

cording  to  peculiarities  of  the  French  mind 
and  the  French  law,  when  you  are  run  over  by 
a  vehicle  in  Paris  you  and  not  the  driver  of  the 
crushing  wheel  are  the  one  to  be  arrested.  In 
this  country  the  legal  presumption  is  that  a 
man  is  innocent  until  he  is  proved  guilty.  In 
France  the  reverse  is  the  case.  This  sort  of 
thing  may  be  all  right  over  there,  but  if  it 
were  tried  in  New  York  we  would  have  to 
extend  the  Tombs  so  as  to  make  them  reach  all 
the  way  to  Broadway  on  one  side  and  the  East 
River  on  the  other. 

In  Paris  one  of  the  first  things  an  American 
asks  to  see  is  the  Champs  Elysees.  It  is  on 
fete  days  and  on  Sundays  that  this  famous  re 
sort  is  to  be  seen  at  its  best.  I  don't  wonder 
that  Americans  like  to  go  there.  A  man  with 
leisure  can  spend  it  more  pleasantly  there 
with  less  financial  outlay  than  anywhere  else  I 
know  of. 

On  either  side  of  the  avenue  there  are  a 
number  of  cafes  chant  ants.  You  can  go  in 
for  a  very  small  sum,  have  a  seat  allotted 
to  you  according  to  the  price  you  pay,  and 
listen  to  the  entertainment  which  is  going 
on.  You  may  hear  a  song,  or  a  piano  recital, 
or  a  comic  recitation.  You  never  know  what 
is  coming  next,  and  that  is  quite  an  exhilarat- 


166  The  People  I've  Smiled  With  : 

ing  sensation,  as  the  fellow  said  about  the  bill 
of  fare  at  the  cheap  boarding  house  where  he 
lived.  Very  often  when  the  songs  in  the  cafe's 
are  popular  the  audience  will  join  in  the  chorus. 
This  sort  of  thing  makes  a  fellow  feel  at  home. 
There  is  also  a  circus  atone  end  of  the  Champs 
Elyse"es,  at  which  several  performances  are 
given  every  day,  and  the  whole  thing  is  very 
gay  and  lively. 

The  French  are  a  very  tidy  people  and 
always  dress  neatly  and  nicely ;  the  women 
have  a  great  deal  of  chic,  no  matter  how 
poor  they  may  be.  But  they  are  not  as 
good  looking  as  the  women  of  our  own 
country. 

You  can  stand  on  any  New  York  street  be 
tween  seven  and  eight  o'clock  in  the  morning, 
when  the  masses  are  going  to  work,  and  see 
more  pretty  girls  in  an  hour  than  you  can  see 
in  Paris  in  a  month.  Nevertheless  Americans 
are  such  appreciative  fellows,  and  so  anxious 
to  enjoy  everything  that  is  going  on  in  the 
world,  that  a  number  of  them  rave  over  the 
beauty  of  French  women. 

Perhaps  I  am  no  judge,  but  the  first  time  I 
meet  a  Frenchman  who  seems  fond  of  the  fair 
sex  I'll  take  all  the  national  conceit  out  of  him 
if  I  can  only  manage  to  catch  him  alone  in 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.  167 

New  York  for  a  couple  of  hours  just  after 
breakfast  or  just  before  supper. 

In  one  respect  Paris  leaves  New  York  en 
tirely  out  of  sight.  The  streets  are  well  paved 
and  very  clean.  They  are  as  far.  ahead  of  the 
streets  of  New  York  as  a  macadamized  road  is 
ahead  of  a  Western  wagon-path — as  much  bet 
ter  as  a  Delmonico  luncheon  is  than  a  piece  of 
dusty  slab-pie  purchased  at  a  corner  stand  on 
South  Street.  The  work  of  cleaning  and  water 
ing  a  street  is  allotted,  in  very  small  sections, 
to  individuals.  Each  man  has  a  block  or  two 
to  care  for,  and  he  will  do  his  work  entirely 
regardless  of  the  weather  or  what  may  be  going 
on  around  him. 

Mr.  John  Russell  Young,  late  United  States 
Minister  to  China,  and  now  of  the  staff  of  Mr. 
Bennett's  London  edition  of  the  New  York 
Herald,  tells  a  good  story  of  a  street  cleaner 
during  the  troublous  times  in  Paris  at  the 
period  of  the  Franco-Prussian  war.  Among 
their  other  playful  ebullitions  of  Gallic  temper, 
the  populace  pulled  down  the  Column  Ven- 
dome.  It  was  a  big  contract,  but  they  were 
quite  equal  to  it.  The  unencumbered  area 
around  it  was  very  great,  and  they  had'  rigged 
numerous  ropes,  each  of  which  was  manned  by 
hundreds  of  men.  Those  who  could  not  haul 


1 68  The  People  I've  Smiled  With: 

at  the  ropes  were  assisting  to  the  best  of  their 
ability  by  howling — and  when  a  French  mob 
does  howl  it  leaves  the  cries  of  the  associated 
newsboys  entirely  in  the  shade.  There  were 
probably  fifty  thousand  people  within  view  of 
the  fated  column,  and  Mr.  Young  stood  with 
our  minister,  Mr.  Washburne,  and  two  or  three 
other  Americans,  looking  on  and  studying 
French  nature,  when  suddenly  they  were  ap 
proached  by  an  old  man  with  a  sprinkler  and  a 
broom,  who  said  to  them,  "  Circulez,  circulez. 
Messieurs,  s'il  vous  plait ;  circulez"  Within 
two  or  three  moments  the  column  came  down, 
making  an  amount  of  dirt  and  debris  that 
could  not  have  been  cleared  away  by  the  New 
York  Street  Cleaning  Department  in  five 
thousand  years ;  the  old  fellow  saw  in  advance 
what  was  about  to  happen,  but  he  had  been 
paid  to  sprinkle  and  sweep  that  street ;  that 
was  about  his  hour  to  operate  just  about  the 
place  where  those  gentlemen  were  standing, 
and  he  did  his  work  faithfully,  regardless  of 
what  was  to  come  after. 

The  omnibus  service' of  Paris  is  something 
like  that  of  London,  each  'bus  having  a  driver 
in  front  and  a  conductor  behind.  If  the  Paris 
people  were  obliged  to  pay  their  own  fares,  as 
a  hundred  thousand  or  more  New  Yorkers  do 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.      169 

every  day  on  the  bob-tail  cars,  there  would  be 
an  insurrection  compared  with  which  any  of 
the  historical  French  revolutions  would  be 
mere  trifles.  The  omnibuses  never  run  over 
anybody,  as  some  of  our  street-cars  do.  Under 
the  driver's  foot  is  a  rubber  ball  containing  a 
little  whistle,  and  by  pressing  this  with  his  foot 
he  can  warn  any  one  in  front.  Although  each 
'bus  has  three  horses,  no  conductor  is  allowed 
to  admit  more  persons  than  can  be  comfort 
ably  seated  on  top  and  inside.  As  soon  as  the 
vehicle  is  full  to  its  legal  limit  the  word  "  Com- 
plet  " — oh,  that  word  !  is  displayed  in  large  let 
ters  on  the  side.  This  excludes  any  more  peo 
ple.  I  am  bound  to  say  I  should  like  to  see  the 
same  rule  in  force  on  the  surface  and  elevated 
railroads  in  New  York  City,  but  if  the  happy 
time  ever  comes  I  shall  prefer  not  to  be  the 
holder  of  railway  stock. 

It  used  to  be  the  fashion  when  distinguished 
visitors  came  to  New  York  to  take  them  first 
to  see  the  small-pox  hospital.  The  Parfsians 
have  advanced  a  step  on  this ;  they  take  you 
to  look  at  their  sewers,  which  are  very  large  and 
well  lighted.  It  is  reported  that  their  size  is 
due  to  the  idea  of  some  king  of  France  who 
thought  it  would  be  a  capital  thing  to  have 
the  sewers  so  large  that  soldiers  could  move 
underground  from  one  part  of  the  city  to 


i;o  The  People  I've  Smiled  With: 

another  without  attracting  the  attention  of 
the  populace.  Passes  can  be  obtained  at  the 
American  Legation  to  go  through  these  sewers 
and  inspect  them  in  company  with  a  guide. 
The  idea  may  not  be  pleasant  at  first  thought, 
but  after  some  experience  in  them  I  am  obliged 
to  admit  that  they  don't  smell  any  worse  than 
some  of  the  gutters  above  ground  in  the  city 
of  New  York. 

One  of  the  things  that  don't  make  you  feel 
as  much  at  home  in  Paris  as  you  might  is  the 
information  that  as  soon  as  you  arrive  the 
police  take  pains  to  obtain  a  full  description  of 
you.  I  notice  they  took  mine,  and  I  was  after 
ward  curious  to  see  how  it  would  look  in 
French,  but  I  was  not  very  inquisitive  about 
it  at  the  Bureau,  for  fear  that  I  might  be  de 
tained.  Every  hotel  proprietor  is  obliged  to 
notify  the  police  of  the  arrival  of  new  guests 
and  give  a  full  description  of  them.  I'd  give 
a  good  deal  to  see  such  a  list  filled  out  in  New 
York  by  some  of  our  enterprising  hotel  clerks, 
but  I  am  afraid  it  would  result  in  considerable 
changing  of  hotels  by  a  certain  portion  of  the 
travelling  populace. 

Another  of  the  popular  sights  of  Paris  is  the 
Morgue ;  you  shouldn't  go  there  just  after 
eating  your  dinner,  and  I  wouldn't  advise  a 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.       171 

fellow  to  take  a  peep  before  breakfast  either. 
You  are  taken  down  a  side  street,  and  you  look 
through  six  glass  windows  to  the  marble  slabs 
where  the  bodies  of  the  unfortunates  are  laid. 
I  have  no  doubt  the  spectacle  might  be  enjoy- 
able  to  students  from  a  medical  college,  but  I 
am  not  that  sort  of  student,  so  I  went  there 
only  once.  There  have  been  some  touching 
and  dramatic  stories  written  with  the  Morgue 
as  ostensible  inspiration,  but  I  have  a  strong 
suspicion  that  imagination  had  more  to  do 
with  them.  I  cannot  understand  the  fellow 
who  could  look  through  those  windows  more 
than  a  moment  or  two  without  going  away  and 
being  willing  to  give  up  almost  anything  to 
forget  forever  what  he  had  been  seeing. 

There  are  a  great  many  soldiers  in  Paris ; 
likewise  a  great  many  priests.  The  soldiers 
are  the  more  admired  of  the  two,  but  the 
priests  are  the  more  respected.  Every  one 
takes  off  his  hat  to  a  priest  whether  he  knows 
him  or  not;  the  foreigners  quickly  learn  to 
follow  the  native  example.  You  know  the 
clergy  by  sight  in  Paris  at  once,  which  is  more 
than  you  can  say  about  them  in  New  York. 
You  can  suspect  almost  any  man  of  being  a 
minister  here,  if  his  dress  corresponds  at  all 
with  your  idea  of  clerical  garb.  I  heard  once 


172  The  People  I've  Smiled  With. 

of  old  Commodore  Vanderbilt  riding  up  town 
in  a  horse-car  in  which  were  two  men  discussing 
religion.  Both  were  about  half  drunk — a  con 
dition  in  which  a  certain  class  of  men  always 
are  possessed  to  talk  about  religion  or  some 
thing  equally  beyond  their  comprehension. 
They  disputed  furiously  for  a  while,  and  finally 
one  of  them,  noticing  the  Commodore's  clear- 
cut  features,  clerical  side-whiskers,  closely  but 
toned  coat,  and  white  tie,  said,  "  I'll  tell  you 
what  I'll  do;  I'll  leave  the  question  to  the 
minister  over  there  in  the  corner."  "  Agreed," 
said  his  friend,  and  walked  over  and  asked  the 
Commodore  whether  he  supposed  that  a  man 
who  didn't  believe  in  infant  baptism  could  be 
saved.  The  old  man,  seeing  the  condition  in 
which  both  men  were,  looked  up  pleasantly 
and  mildly  remarked,  "  I  hope  so,"  upon 
which  the  champion  of  damnation  looked  very 
crestfallen,  and  muttered  to  his  friend,  "  I'll 
bet  the  old  cock  is  a  Universalist." 

I  could  say  a  great  many  pleasant  things 
about  Paris,  but  I  propose  to  be  modest  enough 
to  remember  that  a  number  of  my  readers  know 
the  city  far  better  than  I ;  so  I  will  close  by 
saying  the  very  best  thing  I  can  about  it,  which 
is  that  it  resembles  New  York  more  than  any 
other  city  I  ever  visited.  If  that  doesn't  please 
Paris,  Paris  is  hard  to  please. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

AMERICANS  AHEAD  OF  THE  WORLD. — SOME  NEW  YORKERS. 
— CORNELIUS  VANDERBILT. — HE  SENT  ME  AROUND.— So 
DID  PETER  COOPER. — A  THOMPSON  STREET  AFFAIR. — 
CHAUNCEY  DEPEW. — THAT  WAY  OF  His. — BOB  INGER- 
SOLL. — His  PERFECT  HOME. — RELIGION  AND  PHILOS 
OPHY. — TOM  OCHILTREE. — HE  IMITATED  WASHINGTON. 

IT  begins  to  occur  to  me  that  I  have  de 
voted  a  great  deal  of  my  space  to  people  and 
incidents  abroad,  but  I  insist  that  it  isn't  my 
fault.  When  my  friends  in  New  York  and 
elsewhere  in  this  country  meet  me  they  don't 
ask  me  much  about  what  is  going  on  at  the 
metropolis,  but  at  once  say,  "  Well,  Marsh, 
when  were  you  on  the  other  side  last  ?  Whom 
did  you  see?  Where  did  you  go?  How  is 
so-and-so?"  etc.;  so  a  great  deal  of  the  fore 
going  is  the  result  of  the  questioning  that  I 
am  oftenest  subjected  to. 

I  wish  to  remark,  however,  in  general  terms, 
that  there  is  no  place  like  home,  and  by  way 
of  specification  I  wish  to  say  that  there  are  no 
better  fellows  anywhere  on  the  face  of  the 
earth  than  in  the  city  of  New  York.  I  have 
173 


174  The  People  I've  Smiled  With: 

written  a  great  deal  about  distinguished  per. 
sons  abroad  and  their  many  admirable  qualities, 
but  there  are  just  as  many  at  home,  and  my 
only  regret  in  saying  anything  about  them  is 
that  I  cannot  say  all  I  like. 

There  are  some  men,  however,  regarding 
whom  I  must  say  a  little  if  only  from  a  sense 
of  duty.  Among  those  in  New  York  who  are 
noted  for  their  wealth,  business  enterprise,  and 
general  prominence  are  many  who  are  quite  as 
enterprising  and  thoughtful  regarding  the  com 
fort  and  prosperity  of  persons  who  have  no 
legal  claim  upon  their  attention  or  pockets. 
One  of  these  is  Mr.  Cornelius  Vanderbilt,  who 
has  paid  me  a  great  deal  of  money  to  give  en 
tertainments  for  charitable  purposes,  or  more 
properly  speaking  to  give  entertainments  to 
persons  who  were  unable  otherwise  to  obtain 
them.  He  has  sent  me  to  hospitals,  insane 
asylums,  prisons,  newsboys'  lodging-houses, 
and  other  places  to  cheer  up  the  unfortunate 
and  poor  and  ailing  to  the  best  of  my  ability. 
Whenever  Mr.  Vanderbilt  sent  me  anywhere 
it  was  with  the  understanding  that  I  should 
say  nothing  about  it,  and  particularly  that  I 
should  not  mention  it  to  any  newspaper  men, 
as  he  didn't  care  to  have  his  benevolences 
made  public.  I  trust  he  will  forgive  me  for 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.      *75 

this  one  first  and  only  mention.  It  is  due  to 
him  that  the  public,  which  knows  so  much  of 
him  as  a  millionnaire  and  a  business  man,  should 
understand  also  that  he  has  a  great  warm  heart 
which  he  knows  how  to  use  for  the  benefit  of 
others. 

Another  rich  man  of  the  same  quality  of 
goodness  was  Mr.  Peter  Cooper,  who  during 
the  later  years  of  his  life  sent  me  about  a  great 
deal  to  amuse  some  classes  of  people  of  whose 
existence,  even,  most  other  people  seemed 
ignorant.  Mr.  Cooper  appeared  to  think  that 
amusement  was  one  of  the  prime-  necessities  of 
life.  Sensible  man  !  He  wanted  it  to  be  en 
tirely  proper  and  innocent,  but  the  more  amus 
ing  the  better.  He  sent  me  to  some  very  odd 
places.  One  was  a  house  in  Thompson  Street 
where  a  lot  of  poor  colored  people  used  to 
gather,  I  think  for  the  purpose  of  receiving 
charities  doled  out  under  Mr.  Cooper's  direc 
tion.  I  do  not  believe  I  ever  found  a  more 
appreciative  audience  anywhere  than  at  that 
place  in  Thompson  Street.  When  I  told  these 
people  a  laughing  story  they  would  laugh  to 
such  an  extent  that  when  they  all  got  started 
together  it  was  almost  impossible  to  stop  them 
so  that  I  could  go  on  with  the  show.  I  really 
became  anxious,  for  fear  I  would  not  be  al- 


176  The  People  I've  Smiled  With: 

lowed  to  earn  the  money  which  Mr.  Cooper 
was  going  to  pay  me.  On  one  occasion  down 
there  I  mimicked  a  young  man  who  is  supposed 
to  have  an  india  rubber  face  and  dance  a  jig 
with  his  mouth.  I  had  a  pianist  who  under 
stood  this  performance  and  played  a  lively  air 
for  me  while  I  kept  time  with  my  lips  and  face 
as  nearly  as  I  could. 

Well,  as  often  happens  in  performances  of 
that  kind,  a  number  of  the  audience  began  un 
consciously  to  imitate  me  with  their  faces. 
One  of  them,  who  had  a  very  large  mouth, 
succeeded  to  such  an  extent  that  he  drew  his 
jaw  so  far  behind  his  ear  that  I  didn't  know 
but  what  the  ends  were  going  to  meet  behind 
his  neck  and  make  a  permanent  collar  for  him, 
and  he  did  it  so  fast  that  he  made  me  laugh 
until  I  had  to  stop  my  performance.  That 
started  the  whole  crowd,  and  finally  I  was 
obliged  to  go  off  of  the  platform  and  down 
stairs  to  explain  to  Mr.  Cooper  how  it  hap 
pened.  He  laughed,  too,  and  forgave  me  and 
invited  the  entire  audience  down  to  refresh 
ments,  which  consisted  of  as  nice  a  luncheon, 
including  ice  cream,  coffee,  etc.,  as  a  person 
could  find  anywhere.  I  waited  until  the  rooms 
were  clear  and  then  went  to  the  refreshment 
room  myself,  but  no  sooner  did  I  enter  than  a 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.         '77 

very  black  man  shouted  in  an  excitable  way, 
"  Take  dat  man  'way — take  him  'way,  or  we 
can't  eat  nothin'  at  all,"  and  they  all  com 
menced  to  laugh  again,  so  that  I  was  compelled 
to  leave  the  room.  They  didn't  seem  even  to 
be  able  to  look  at  me  without  laughing. 

Chauncey  Depew  is  another  man  who  is  al 
ways  looking  out  for  other  people.  This  ought 
to  be  admitted  by  about  half  a  million  Ameri 
cans  to  whom  he  gave  free  passes  before  the 
Inter-State  Railroad  Commission  put  an  end 
to  that  sort  of  thing.  As  every  one  ought  to 
know,  Mr.  Depew  is  a  very  busy  man.  A  man 
cannot  be  president  of  a  great  railroad  com 
pany,  look  after  his  own  private  interests,  be  a 
bank  director,  receive  hundreds  of  visitors 
daily,  make  a  speech  or  two  every  night  at 
dinners  or  great  public  occasions,  and  have 
much  time  to  spare,  yet  Mr.  Depew  never 
seems  ruffled  or  put  out  when  some  new  person 
appears  to  demand  his  attention.  I  have  been 
told  by  more  than  one  railroad  man  around  the 
Grand  Central  Railroad  Depot  that  he  looks 
out  for  the  employes  quite  as  well  as  for  some 
of  his  more  distinguished  acquaintances.  Some 
men  attempt  to  do  all  this  and  partially  suc 
ceed,  but  they  do  it  at  the  expense  of  dear  ones 
at  home.  There  is  none  of  that  sort  of  non- 


1 78  The  People  I've  Smiled  With: 

sense  about  Depew.  If  you  walk  along  the 
street  with  him  after  his  business  day  at  his 
office  has  closed,  he  is  very  likely  to  stop  in 
front  of  a  candy  store  and  say,  "  Just  come  in 
here  a  moment."  Then  he  loads  his  pockets 
with  bonbons  or  something  of  the  kind  to  take 
home.  If  you  ask  him  what  he  is  going  to  do 
with  all  these,  he  will  say,  "  Oh,  these  are  for 
my  boy." 

I  have  called  on  Mr.  Depew  a  great  many 
times,  and  though  he  may  have  wanted  to  kick 
me  out  at  one  time  or  other  he  never  showed 
any  such  sentiment  in  his  face.  He  would 
always  greet  me  with  a  pleasant  "  How  are 
you,  Marshall?  "  and  whatever  I  asked  of  him 
he  was  sure  to  attend  to.  I  suspect  the  good- 
hearted  man  has  often  wondered  after  I  went 
out  when  I  would  come  to  years  of  discretion 
and  stop  bothering  him  about  matters  which  I 
ought  to  be  able  to  attend  to  myself,  but  if  he 
has  he  has  never  given  me  a  hint  of  it.  I 
have  seen  him  treat  a  number  of  other  people 
in  the  same  way,  but  he  is  quite  as  competent 
at  getting  rid  of  bores  as  he  is  at  looking  after 
his  friends.  I  remember  one  morning  calling 
there  when  he  was  very  busy;  so  I  sat  down 
and  amused  myself  with  a  newspaper,  awaiting 
his  convenience.  His  genial  secretary,  Mr. 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.      T79 

Duval,  stood  at  the  door  trying  to  guard  his 
superior  officer  from  being  bothered,  but  some 
how  one  fellow  slipped  in,  and  Mr.  Depew 
immediately  greeted  him  pleasantly,  with 
"Ah,  good-morning,  sit  down."  The  man 
immediately  began  to  tell  the  railroad  presi 
dent  that  on  his  farm  was  the  one  particular 
thing  that  Mr.  Depew  needed  in  the  shape  of 
stone  to  ballast  his  railroad.  Now,  Mr.  Depew 
could  have  told  that  man  that  he  already  had 
the  quality  of  stone  he  needed,  which  was  the 
truth,  but  that  would  have  brought  on  an  argu 
ment  ;  so  he  said  :  "  Oh,  yes  ;  that  reminds  me 
of  a  story."  Then  he  got  up  to  tell  the  story, 
and  how  splendidly  he  did  it  !  I  shall  never 
forget  it.  The  man  rose  with  him,  and  as  the 
two  walked  together  Mr.  Depew  edged  gently 
toward  the  door.  By  this  time  the  story  was 
nearly  finished  ;  both  were  half  way  out  the 
door.  When  the  point  came  the  man  laughed 
heartily ;  Depew  shook  hands  with  him,  said 
good-morning,  and  was  back  at  hisdesk  and  hard 
at  work  again  before  the  fellow  got  through 
laughing,  or  realized  that  he  wasn't  inside  the 
office.  Mr.  Depew  would  make  a  first-class  man 
aging  editor  for  a  daily  newspaper  if  he  were 
nut  otherwise  engaged,  and  of  course  he  would 
do  honour  to  our  national  presidential  chair. 


i8o  The  People  I've  Smiled  With : 

One  of  the  pleasantest  fellows  to  meet  in 
New  York  is  Bob  Ingersoll.  I  know  his  name 
is  Robert,  and  he  has  a  middle  initial,  which  is 
G.,  but  if  I  called  him  anything  but  "  Bob,"  I 
am  afraid  people  might  not  understand  to 
whom  I  was  alluding.  There  is  a  great  deal  of 
religion  in  Bob,  in  spite  of  remarks  to  the  con 
trary,  of  which  the  public  have  heard  a  great 
deal.  His  father  was  a  minister,  and  the  boy 
was  baptized  in  a  theatre,  and  he  seems  to  have 
struck  a  happy  average  between  the  two. 
Whenever  you  go  to  his  house,  you  will  find 
him  very  entertaining,  and  anxious  that  every 
body  else  should  be  entertained.  Whenever  I 
am  there,  and  somebody  persuades  me  to  get 
up  and  recite  or  say  something,  Mr.  Ingersoll 
is  so  anxious  that  whatever'  is  done  shall  be 
thoroughly  enjoyed  by  as  many  as  possible 
that  he  calls  up  all  his  servants  and  lets  them 
stand  in  the  hall  to  listen.  I  am  not  defend 
ing  his  theological  theories,  or  lack  of  any, 
for  theology  isn't  in  my  line,  but  I  remember 
seeing  a  great  deal  in  the  New  Testament 
about  the  influence  of  love  on  a  family  and 
humanity  in  general,  and  I  want  to  say  that 
in  Ingersoll's  house  the  spirit  of  love  seems  to 
prevail  over  everything.  The  host  is  so  good- 
natured  and  considerate  and  willing  to  make 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little   Life.     lSl 

allowances  for  others  that  he  won't  even  lose 
his  temper  if  the  dinner  chances  to  come  up 
wrong  in  some  way.  I  was  there  one  day  when 
the  meat  was  overdone,  or  underdone,  or  some 
thing  of  the  kind,*  and  the  family,  instead 
of  complaining,laughed  about  it.  They  asked 
some  questions,  for  discipline  must  be  preserved 
in  a  kitchen  as  much  as  in  an  army,  but  when 
they  found  out  that  there  had  been  a  political 
parade  that  day  and  the  cook  had  gone  out 
to  see  it,  so  that  she  had  forgotten  the  meat 
for  a  while,  they  all  laughed  and  thought  it 
was  a  good  joke. 

Here  is  a  bit  of  Ingersoll's  philosophy,  illus 
trated  by  himself :  There  were  two  turkeys  in 
a  farmer's  yard,  one  was  wise  and  the  other 
foolish.  The  wise  turkey  said,  "  Ah, 
Thanksgiving  Day  is  approaching ;  I  shall 
starve  myself  and  thereby  be  able  to  live 
longer."  The  foolish  turkey  said,  "No,  sir;  I 
am  going  to  eat  all  I  can."  "All  right,"  said 
the  wise  turkey,  "  go  ahead."  So  the  foolish 
turkey  ate,  became  fat,  and  had  lots  of  fun,  but 
the  wise  turkey  starved  himself  and  became 
thin.  When  Thanksgiving  Day  arrived  the 
honest  farmer  killed  both  the  wise  and  the 
foolish  turkey,  and  by  putting  a  stone  inside 
the  wise  turkey  made  him  weigh  more  than 


1 82  The  People  I've  Smiled  With: 

the  foolish  one.  Moral :  Never  give  up  a 
good  thing. 

One  day  I  met  Bob  in  Twenty-third  Street, 
when  it  was  raining  great  guns,  and  he  had  on 
a  new  coat  and  a  very  shiny  hat.  A  poor  man 
came  up  to  him  and  asked  him  for  some 
money.  The  man's  coat  was  not  as  good  as 
the  Colonel's,  but  it  was  plain  to  see  that  it 
was  a  great  deal  thinner;  so  while  the  poor 
beggar  was  making  his  pitiful  speech  the 
Colonel  held  an  umbrella  over  him  all  the 
while,  and  then  gave  him  a  dollar — not  with 
a  scowl  and  I-wonder-if-you-are-a-liar  sort  of  a 
look,  but  with  pleasant  talk  and  some  words  of 
encouragement.  People  may  say  all  they 
please  about  Colonel  Ingersoll's  infidelity,  but  I 
wish  a  good  many  people  whom  I  know  had 
some  of  his  religion.  Religion  works  differ 
ently  in  different  natures.  Perhaps  some,  like 
Col.  Ingersoll,  need  very  little  of  it.  There 
are  others  who  don't  seem  able  to  get  enough 
to  keep  them  straight,  at  least  not  enough  to 
keep  them  fair  to  their  fellows. 

One  of  the  best  men  in  New  York  to  smile 
with  is  Senator  Evarts.  I  think  I  have  heard 
somewhere  that  he  can  make  a  very  long 
speech  when  he  tries,  but  when  he  is  telling  a 
joke  he  can  get  to  the  point  as  soon  as  anyone. 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.       *%3 

I  shall  not  forget  the  time  that  he  was  at  the 
dinner  of  the  "  CloverClub  "  in  Philadelphia — • 
an  institution  which  it  isn't  safe  for  a  man  to 
visit  unless  he  has  all  his  brains  in  his  head  and 
can  get  them  to  the  tip  of  his  tongue  at  very 
short  notice.  Among  the  guests  on  this  oc 
casion  were  President  Cleveland,  ex-President 
Hayes,  Gov.  Foraker  of  Ohio,  Gov.  Lee  of 
Virginia,  Col.  Aleck  McClure,  Gov.  Gordon  of 
Georgia,  Senator  Hawley,  Col.  John  McCaull, 
Col.  A.  Lowden  Snowden,  and  Hon.  John  F. 
Wise  of  Virginia.  It  is  the  style  at  the  Clover 
Club  to  guy  the  speaker — everybody  under 
stands  that.  This  is  done  only  for  fun  ;  never 
theless  it  doesn't  help  a  man  to  deliver  a  well- 
arranged  speech.  But  Mr.  Evarts  began 
promptly  to  guy  the  Club.  Said  he  :  "  I  am 
sure  my  distinguished  friend,  Judge  Harlan, 
whom  we  have  just  heard,  tried  to  get  some 
idea  from  President  Handy  (President  of  the 
Clover  Club)  to  help  him  out  with  his  speech, 
but  that  was  an  awful  mistake.  I  cannot  get 
any  ideas  out  of  the  two  gentlemen  who  sit 
near  me  (Gov.  Gordon  and  ex-President  Hayes), 
because  they  have  none,  and,  as  far  as  I  can 
judge  of  the  Clover  Club  and  its  members, 
these  gentlemen  haven't  received  any  new 
ideas  since  they  came."  Here  some  one  inter* 


184  The  People  I've  Smiled  With: 

rupted  with,  "  I  move  we  elect  Evarts  on  that 
basis."  "  Gentlemen,"  retorted  the  Senator, 
with  a  gesture  of  his  hand,  "  I  have  never  been 
seen  in  this  way  before.  I  was  going  to  say  a 
very  modest  thing — which  is  not  very  common 
with  me — but  I  won't  break  the  record.  I  was 
going  to  say  that  I  have  never  been  here  be 
fore,  and,  jf  I  had  been,  you  would  never  have 
invited  me  again.  I  understand  that  in  your 
great  city  you  are  pre-eminently  without  con 
ventionality,  but  I  have  heard  nothing  but  con 
vention  for  the  last  week.  (It  chanced  to  be 
the  week  of  the  Convention  of  Governors.) 
When  I  had  the  honor  of  delivering  the  Cen 
tennial  oration  of  '76  " — here  a  voice  shouted 
"  1776" — "  a  friend  said  to  me,  '  Now,  Evarts, 
when  you  spoke  on  the  impeachment  trial,  you 
spoke  four  days  ;  at  the  Beecher  trial  you  spoke 
eight  days  ;  is  there  to  be  any  limit  whatever 
on  this  occasion  ?  '  '  No,'  I  replied,  '  but  there 
is  a  sort  of  implied  understanding  that  I  shall 
get  through  before  the  next  Centennial.'  My 
failure  in  speaking  is  that  T  lack,  according  to 
my  friends,  what  has  been  the  cause  of  many 
large  railway  enterprises  failing — I  lack  ter 
minal  facilities."  Then  he  sat  down  and  no 
body  dared  bother  him. 

Colonel  Tom   Ochiltree  is  a  good  fellow  to 


R-: Elections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.       185 

meet  in  New  York.  Tom  has  the  air  of  an  enter 
prising  business  man,  but  I  never  saw  him  in 
such  a  hurry  that  he  didn't  have  time  to  tell  a 
story,  not  even  if  he  was  going  to  take  a  drink. 
He  is  proud  of  being  the  original  of  the  story 
of  the  young  man  who  was  taken  in  partner 
ship  with  his  father,  and  entrusted  with  the 
duty  of  preparing  a  signboard  for  the  new  firm, 
and  when  the  father  came  down  town  next  day 
and  looked  over  the  door  he  read : 

THOMAS  P.  OCHILTREE  &  FATHER. 

Tom  is  said  to  be  gifted  with  a  lively  imagi 
nation,  and  never  to  spoil  a  story  for  the  sake 
of  the  truth.  He  explained  confidentially  once 
to  a  number  of  his  friends  how  he  came  by  this 
peculiarity.  The  occasion  was  a  meeting  of 
the  Southern  Club  of  New  York,  all  the  mem 
bers  of  which  were  born  in  Southern  States. 
The  club  had  been  called  together  to  take 
proper  action  regarding  the  approaching  Wash 
ington  Centenary,  and  when  Tom  rose  to  re 
spond  some  one  in  the  audience  remarked 
gravely,  "  Washington  never  told  a  lie."  If  he 
supposed  that  remark  was  going  to  bluff  Tom 
Ochiltree  he  didn't  know  his  man,  for  the  Col 
onel  promptly  responded,  "  That's  so,  I  know 
that  cherry  tree  story,  I  heard  it  when  I  was 


1 86  The  People  I've  Smiled  With: 

very  young.  I  was  so  affected  by  it  that  I  was 
moved  to  emulation.  My  father  hadn't  any 
cherry  trees,  but  he  had  a  nrce  young  apple  or 
chard,  and  I  got  a  little  hatchet  and  went  out 
in  the  orchard  and  chopped  down  the  pet  tree. 
As  soon  as  father  came  home  he  saw  what  had 
happened.  He  immediately  questioned  me, 
and  I  told  him  the  truth,  expecting  to  be 
treated  as  little  Georgie  Washington  was. 
Well,  my  father  went  to  that  tree,  and  he  cut 
off  a  nice  long  slender  section  of  it,  and  he  used 
it  in  such  a  manner  for  the  next  five  minutes 
that  I've  hated  the  very  mention  of  the  truth 
ever  since." 

Tom  is  a  great  fellow  for  illustrating  an  ar 
gument  with  a  story.  Abe  Lincoln  couldn't 
do  it  better.  Here  is  one  which  he  offered  as 
an  illustration  during  one  of  the  endless  quar 
rels  over  Free  Trade  and  Protection  during  the 
recent  Presidential  canvass.  A  couple  of  dark 
ies  met  down  South  one  day.  One  little  fellow 
said,  "  Hallo,  how  do  you  do  ?  "  "  Oh,  I'se  fust 
rate  ;  what's  you  doin'  ?  "  "  Oh,  I'se  been 
workin'  for  my  mammy."  "  Is  you  workin'  for 
you*  mammy ;  what  is  you  doin'  for  you' 
mammy?"  "Oh,  I'se  choppin'  wood." 
4i  What  does  you'  mammy  give  you  for  chop- 
pin'  wood?"  "Oh,  she  gives  me  a  penny  a 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.       l87 

day."  "  And  what  you  gwine  to  do  wid  the 
money?"  "Oh,  mammy's  keepin'  it  for  me." 
"  Well,  what  she  gwine  to  do  wid  it  ?  "  "  Oh, 
she's  gwine  to  buy  me  a  new  handle  for  dis  axe, 
when  I  wears  out  dis  one."  The  reader  may 
apply  the  theory  according  to  his  own  predi 
lections  in  politics. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

AMERICAN  ACTORS. — THEY  ARE  GREAT  STORY-TELLERS. — 
AUGUSTIN  DALY  AND  His  BROTHER. — JAMES  LEWIS. — In 
re  COQUELIN.  —  NAT  GOODWIN.  —  DE  WOLF  HOPPER. — 
BARRETT.  —  BOOTH.  —  CHANFRAU'S  BEST  STORY.  —  BEN 
MAGINLEY.  —  No  ADMITTANCE  BEHIND  THE  SCENES.  — 
MARK  TWAIN'S  EXPERIENCE.— MAURICE  BARRYMORE. 

WHEN  the  gift  of  smiling  and  making  others 
smile  was  given  out,  American  actors  were  not 
behind  the  door.  Almost  any  one  of  them  is 
a  compendium  of  stories,  new  and  old,  and 
when  he  tells  them  you  enjoy  the  old  about  as 
well  as  the  new,  for  it  either  has  a  new  point, 
or  something  else  entirely  unexpected  about 
its  anatomy.  It  is  hard  to  quote  distinctive 
individuals  and  specimens  without  leaving  out 
a  hundred  times  as  much  as  any  book  would 
hold,  but  at  a  venture  I  herewith  offer  a  few, 
first  making  my  will,  and  hoping  that  none  of 
the  dramatic  profession  whom  I  chance  to  neg 
lect  is  mean  enough  to  hit  a  man  smaller  than 
himself. 

Some  of  the  best  story-telling  ever  done  by 
members  of  the  profession  was  at  the  dinner 

188 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.       189 

given  by  Mr.  Augustin  Daly  to  Coquelin,  the 
distinguished  French  comedian.  By  the  way, 
Mr.  Daly  tells  a  first-class  story  about  his 
brother,  the  Judge.  The  two  used  to  indulge 
in  amateur  theatricals  when  they  were  boys. 
Their  theatre  was  the  family  smoke-house,  and 
the  performances  began  when  the  manager  was 
about  eight  years  old.  As  they  grew  up,  both 
dabbled  more  and  more  in  theatricals,  and 
finally  the  Judge  ventured  to  play  Mark  An- 
tony  in  Julius  Caesar,  and  afterwards  asked 
his  brother  for  an  opinion  of  his  performance. 
"  Well,"  said  Augustin,  "  I  think,  Joe,  that  you 
had  better  study  law." 

One  of  the  liveliest  members  of  Mr.  Daly's 
company  is  James  Lewis,  who  has  made  fun  for 
New  Yorkers  longer  than  any  other  man  living, 
and  longer  than  any  one  upon  whom  the  cur 
tain  has  been  "rung down,"  unless  perhaps  old 
Burton  is  excepted.  Jim,  as  every  one  calls 
him,  looks  like  a  boy.  A  friend  of  mine  once 
in  front  of  the  house  asked  me  how  old  he  was. 
I  said,  "  Oh,  about  thirty-five  years,  I  suppose." 
"  Thirty-five  !  "  said  he  ;  "  why,  he  has  been 
hanging  around  Daly's  for  twenty  years." 
*'  Well,"  said  Lewis  himself,  when  this  story 
was  told  him,  "  I  have  been  hanging  around 
Daly's  for  sixteen  years,  and  they  have  been 


190  The  People  I've  Smiled  With  : 

the  happiest  and  most  prosperous  years  of  my 
life.  Mark  Twain  said  to  me  one  night :  '  Say, 
Lewis,  how  old  are  you,  any  way  ? '  I  said  to 
him:  'Mark,  I  am  a  full  deck/  and  he  under 
stood  me." 

When  Lewis  was  called  upon  to  speak  at  the 
Coquelin  dinner,  he  paid  the  following  tribute 
to  the  distinguished  guest :  "  The  last  time  I 
saw  Coquelin,"  said  he,  "  was  in  Paris,  and  on 
that  occasion  I  was  *  made  up  '  for  the  char 
acter  of  the  professor  in  '  A  Night  Off.' 
Coquelin  said  I  looked  so  much  like  his  old 
tutor  that  I  made  him  shudder.  A  friend  of 
mine  who  saw  me  act  in  Paris  said  I  reminded 
him  of  Coquelin — because  I  was  so  different. 
After  thinking  about  it  for  a  long  while  I  made 
up  my  mind  that  was  sarcasm.  I  have  never 
had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  M.  Coquelin  on  the 
stage,  but  I  have  been  warned  about  him. 
Perhaps  you  don't  catch  the  idea.  Well,  I'll 
explain.  The  year  I  voted  for  Andrew  Jack 
son  I  was  travelling  with  a  small  company 
acting  in  rural  towns.  In  one  village  I  asked 
the  landlord  of  the  local  hotel  where  the 
theatre  was.  '  Well,'  he  replied,  '  we  aint  ex 
actly  got  no  theatre,  but  there's  a  buildin'  up 
yander  where  they  give  performances.  It  used 
to  be  the  Temperance  Hall,  but  they  call  it 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.       19* 

the  Grand  Opera  House  now.'  I  went  '  up 
yander,'  and  found  a  marble-yard.  A  man 
was  chiseling  '  In  memory  of '  on  a  tomb 
stone,  and  I  shuddered.  '  Where's  the  Grand 
Opera  House  ?  '  I  asked  him.  *  Right  back  of 
the  marble-yard,'  he  replied.  '  Where's  the 
stage-door  ?  '  '  You'll  find  it  just  behind  the 
third  tombstone  on  your  left,'  said  he.  Things 
were  beginning  to  seem  solemn,  and  when  I 
got  in  there,  and  on  the  stage,  I  didn't  feel  like 
playing  comedy.  The  carpenter  was  up  on  a 
ladder  fixing  a  bit  of  scenery,  and  I  threw  a 
ten-penny  nail  at  him  to  attract  his  attention. 
He  looked  down  at  me  over  his  spectacles,  and 
something  in  my  personal  appearance  seemed 
to  strike  him,  for  he  asked  me  :  *  Is  your  name 
Lewis?'  'Yes,'  I  answered.  'Oh,  well,  I've 
been  warned  about  you.'  '  So  ? '  I  asked  won- 
deringly.  '  Yes ;  they  told  me  you  was  first- 
rate.'  Well,  I  have  been  warned  about  Coque- 
lin.  I  am  sorry  I  don't  know  more  French — • 
Vive  Coquelin  !  " 

Nat  Gobdwin  is  another  splendid  story-teller. 
He  is  always  full  of  fresh  ones.  I  think  he 
must  make  them  up  himself,  because  I  never 
heard  any  of  them  before  I  got  them  from 
him.  I  owe  him  a  great  deal  for  the  new 
"  bracers"  he  has  given  me,  and  I  feel  still 


19*  The  People  I've  Smiled  With: 

more  indebted  to  him  for  his  not  having  killed 
me  on  one  special  occasion.  It  was  this:  I 
reached  London  about  two  weeks  before  he 
did,  dined  at  the  Savage  Club,  and  told  one  of 
Nat's  stories,  because  I  knew  of  course  it 
would  be  fresh.  It  made  an  immense  hit. 
About  two  weeks  afterward  Nat  came  over. 
He  was  introduced  at  the  Savage  Club.  At 
the  dinner-table  he  told  what  he  supposed  was 
his  newest  story.  It  fell  utterly  flat,  and  Nat 
was  amazed  and  disgusted.  Chauncey  Depew 
had  told  him  that  some  of  the  English  didn't 
appreciate  humour,  and  he  made  up  his  mind 
that  must  be  the  trouble  ;  but  one  of  the  mem 
bers,  knowing  his  discomfiture,  said  to  him : 
"  The  trouble  is,  Mr.  Goodwin,  Mr.  Wilder  told 
us  that  story  a  week  or  two  ago."  "  Oh,  did 
he  ?  "  said  Nat.  "  Well,  then,  I'll  get  even  with 
him ;  I'll  give  you  an  imitation  of  Marsh 
Wilder,"  and  then  he  told  one  of  my  stories 
and  made  a  tremendous  hit. 

De  Wolf  Hopper  is  another  man  who  can 
put  a  select  crowd  in  a  roar  and  keep  them  at 
it  until  each  of  them  needs  to  go  -to  a  throat- 
doctor.  So  is  Lawrence  Barrett.  Mr.  Booth, 
solemn  as  he  may  appear  on  the  stage  in  trag* 
edy,  has  an  immense  amount  of  fun  in  him. 
There  isn't  on  the  variety  stage  a  man  who  can 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.       *93 

better  sing  a  comic  song  or  dance  a  jig.  Chan, 
frau,  who  used  to  be  a  great  character  actor, 
and  who  I  hope  is  making  as  much  fun  in 
the  other  world  as  he  did  in  this,  used  to  tell 
a  story  of  Booth  and  Edwin  Adams  in  the 
days  when  they  were  both  young,  aspiring,  and 
very  poor.  They  had  gone  to  Australia  to 
delight  the  natives  with  the  legitimate  drama, 
but  "  something  intervened  to  obviate,"  and 
they  found  themselves  hard  up.  They  couldn't 
walk  home  on  the  ties,  there  not  being  that 
kind  of  a  route,  and  they  could  not  exactly 
see  their  way  to  a  walking  tour  upon  the 
ocean  ;  so  they  went  into  seclusion.  Chanfrau 
happened  in  town,  wherever  it  was,  about  that 
time,  and,  walking  about  one  evening,  heard 
the  cheerful  sound  of  a  jig  proceeding  upward 
from  a  cellar  which  seemed  also  to  be  a  bar 
room.  He  dropped  down  to  see  what  was  go 
ing  on,  and  there  he  found  Booth  and  Adams 
dancing  jigs  for  drinks.  I  don't  know  whether 
either  of  them  ever  denied  the  story.  I  heart 
ily  hope  they  didn't,  for  it  was  fun  to  think  of  it 
when  one  chanced  to  see  them  afterward  on 
the  stage  in  the  height  of  their  prosperity. 

Old  Ben  Maginley,  who,  by  the  way,  was  not 
old  at  all  when  he  died,  and  whose  two  hun 
dred  and  fifty  pounds  avoirdupois  I  trust  is  now 


194  The  People  I've  Smiled  With  : 

gracing  the  edge  of  a  fleecy,  sunny  cloud  some* 
where  in  the  celestial  ether,  was  also  a  great 
story-teller.  Ben  would  stand  at  the  corner  of 
the  Union  Square  Hotel  on  a  mild  summer 
evening, when  one  season  had  concluded  and  the 
agony  of  the  next  had  not  yet  begun,  and  tell 
stories  in  an  innocent,  straightforward,  country- 
farmer  fashion  that  convulsed  every  one  about 
him.  None  of  his  hearers  went  to  a  bar-room 
so  long  as  Ben  would  continue  talking. 

American  actors  don't  differ  much  in  style 
and  manner  from  their  professional  brethren  in 
England,  but  the  ways  of  American  theaters 
behind  the  scenes  differ  decidedly  from  those 
on  the  other  side.  The  green-rooms  and  "  flies  " 
in  many  London  theatres  are  accessible  to 
a  select  and  specially  favoured  circle,  but 
it  isn't  easy  for  any  visitor  to  get  behind  the 
stage  of  a  first-class  American  theatre.  The 
following  explanation  by  Mark  Twain  of  an 
attempted  visit  to  Daly's  green-room  is  a  fair 
illustration  of  what  may  happen  to  any  one  at 
tempting  to  get  into  the  rear  of  that  house  or 
any  other  prominent  New  York  theatre  He 
said,  at  the  looth-night  dinner  of  "  The  Taming 
of  the  Shrew  ":  "  I  am  glad  to  be  here.  This 
is  the  hardest  theatre  in  New  York  to  get  into^ 
even  at  the  front  door.  I  never  got  in  with- 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.       *95 

out  hard  work.  I  am  glad  we  have  got  so  far  in 
at  last.  Two  or  three  years  ago  I  had  an  appoint 
ment  to  meet  Mr.  Daly  on  the  stage  of  this 
theatre  at  eight  o'clock  in  the  evening.  Well, 
I  got  on  a  train  at  Hartford  to  come  to  New 
York  and  keep  the  appointment.  All  I  had  to 
do  was  to  come  to  the  back  door  of  the  theatre 
on  Sixth  Avenue.  I  did  not  believe  that;  I 
did  not  believe  it  could  be  on  Sixth  Avenue, 
but  that  is  what  Daly's  note  said — Come  to 
that  door,  walk  right  in,  and  keep  the  appoint^ 
ment.  It  looked  very  easy.  It  looked  easy 
enough,  but  I  had  not  much  confidence  in  the 
Sixth  Avenue  door.  Well,  I  was  kind  of  bored 
on  the  train,  and  I  bought  some  newspapers — 
New  Haven  newspapers — and  there  was  not 
much  news  in  them,  so  I  read  the  advertise 
ments.  There  was  one  advertisement  of  a 
bench  show.  I  had  heard  of  bench  shows,  and 
1  often  wondered  what  there  was  about  them 
to  interest  people.  I  had  seen  bench  shows, 
lectured  to  bench  shows  in  fact,  but  I  didn't 
want  to  advertise  them  or  to  brag  about  them. 
Well,  I  read  on  a  little  and  learned  that  a  bench 
show  was  not  a  bench  show — but  dogs,  not 
benches  at  all — only  dogs.  I  began  to  be  in 
terested,  and,  as  there  was  nothing  else  to  do, 
I  read  every  bit  of  tliat  advertisement,  and 


196  The  People  I've  Smiled  With: 

learned  that  the  biggest  thing  in  this  show  was 
a  St.  Bernard  dog  that  weighed  one  hundred 
and  forty-five  pounds.  Before  I  got  to  New 
York,  I  was  so  interested  in  the  bench  shows, 
that  I  made  up  my  mind  to  go  to  one  the  first 
chance  I  got.  Down  on  Sixth  Avenue,  near 
where  that  back  door  might  be,  I  began  to  take 
things  leisurely.  I  did  not  like  to  be  in  too 
much  of  a  hurry.  There  was  not  anything  in 
sight  that  looked  like  a  back  door.  The  near 
est  approach  to  it  was  a  cigar  store,  so  I  went 
in  and  bought  a  cigar,  not  too  expensive,  but 
it  cost  enough'  to  pay  for  any  information  I 
might  get,  and  leave  the  dealer  a  fair  profit. 
Well,  I  did  not  like  to  be  too  abrupt,  to  make 
the  man  think  me  crazy,  by  asking  him  if  that 
was  the  way  to  Daly's  Theatre,  so  I  started 
gradually  to  lead  up  to  the  subject,  asking  him 
first  if  that  was  the  way  to  Castle  Garden. 
When  I  got  to  the  real  question,  and  he  said 
he  would  show  me  the  way,  I  was  astonished. 
He  sent  me  through  a  long  hallway,  and  I  found 
myself  in  a  back  yard.  Then  I  went  through 
a  long  passage-way  and  into  a  little  room,  and 
there  before  my  eyes  was  a  big  St.  Bernard  dog 
lying  on  a  bench.  There  was  another  doer 
beyond,  and  I  went  there  and  was  met  by  a 
big,  fierce  man  with  a  fur  cap  on  and  coat  off, 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.      197 

who  remarked,  "  Fhwat  do  yez  want  ?"  I  told 
him  I  wanted  to  see  Mr.  Daly.  "  Yez  can't  see 
Mr.  Daly  this  time  of  night,"  he  responded.  I 
urged  that  I  had  an  appointment  with  Mr. 
Daly,  and  gave  him  my  card,  which  did  not 
seem  to  impress  him  much.  "Yez  can't  get 
in  and  yez  can't  smoke  here.  Throw  away 
that  cigar.  If  yez  want  to  see  Mr.  Daly, 
yez'll  have  to  be  after  going  to  the  front  door 
and  buy  a  ticket,  and  then  if  yez  have  luck 
and  he's  around  that  way  yez  may  see  him." 
I  was  getting  discouraged,  but  I  had  one  re 
source  left  that  had  been  of  good  service  in 
similar  emergencies.  Firmly  but  kindly  I  told 
him  my  name  was  Mark  Twain,  and  I  awaited 
results.  There  were  none.  He  was  not  fazed 
a  bit.  "Fhwere's  your  order  to  see  Mr.  Daly?" 
he  asked.  I  handed  him  the  note,  and  he 
examined  it  intently.  "  My  friend,"  I  re- 
marked,  "  you  can  read  that  better  if  you  hold 
it  the  other  side  up";  but  he  took  no  notice 
of  the  suggestion,  and  finally  asked,  "  Where's 
Mr.  Daly's  name  ?  "  "  There  it  is,"  I  told  him, 
"on  the  top  of  the  page."  "That's  all  right," 
he  said,  "  that's  where  he  always  puts  it,  but  I 
don't  see  the  "  W  "  in  his  name,"  and  he  eyed 
me  distrustfully.  Finally  he  asked,  "  Fhwat  do 
yez  want  to  see  Mr.  Daly  for?"  "  Business." 


198  The  People  I've  Smiled  With. 

"Business?"  "Yes."  It  was  my  only  hope. 
"  Fhwat  kind — theatres  ?  "  That  was  too  much. 
"No."  "What  kind  of  shows,  then?"  "Bench 
shows."  It  was  risky,  but  I  was  desperate. 
"  Bench  shows,  is  it — where  ?"  The  big  man's 
face  changed,  and  he  began  to  look  interested. 
"New  Haven."  "New  Haven,"  is  it?  Ah, 
that's  going  to  be  a  fine  show.  I'm  glad  to  see 
you.  Did  you  see  a  big  dog  in  the  other 
room?"  "Yes."  "How  much  do  you  think 
that  dog  weighs  ?"  "  One  hundred  and  forty- 
five  pounds."  "  Look  at  that,  now  !  He's  a 
good  judge  of  dogs,  and  no  mistake.  He 
weighs  all  of  one  hundred  and  thirty-eight. 
Sit  down  and  shmoke, — go  on  and  shmoke  your 
cigar,  I'll  tell  Mr.  Daly  you  are  here."  In  a 
few  minutes  I  was  on  the  stage  shaking  hands 
with  Mr.  Daly,  and  the  big  man  standing 
around  glowing  with  satisfaction.  "  Come 
around  in  front,"  said  Mr.  Daly,  "  and  see  the 
performance.  I  will  put  you  into  my  own 
box,"  and  as  I  moved  away  I  heard  my  honest 
friend  mutter,  "Well,  he  desarves  it." 

Maurice  Barrymore  is  a  splendid  fellow  to 
smile  with ;  he  always  seems  good-natured. 
He  is  of  fine  birth  and  education,  and  would 
have  been  a  clergyman  could  his  parents  have 
had  things  their  way;  he  would  have  made  one 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.        *99 

of  the  curates  with  whom  all  girls  fall  in  love, 
He  never  slumbers  or  sleeps,  unless  while  his 
eyes  are  open  and  he  is  busy  talking  and  tell 
ing  stories.  He  has  no  chestnuts,  but  any 
story  he  tells  reaches  the  dignity  of  a  chestnut 
in  a  very  short  time,  it  is  repeated  so  industri 
ously. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

AFTER-DINNER  SPEAKERS. — ENGLISHMEN  ADMIRE  OURS. — 
TOM  WALLER.— CHAUNCEY  DEPEW. — WAYNE  MCVEAGH  — 
MOSES  P.  HANDY. — THE  BALD  EAGLE  OF  WESTCHESTER. — 
THE  MAN  WHO  DIDN'T  KICK. — COMPETITIVE  LYING. — 
HORACE  PORTER.  —  BILL  NYE.  —  JAMES  WHITCOMB 
RILEY. — JUDGE  BRADY. — JUDGE  DAVIS.— DAVID  DUDLEY 
FIELD. 

THERE  are  a  great  many  clever  men  in  Eng 
land, — men  who  are  known  to  the  entire  world 
as  orators — but  they  can't  hold  a  candle  to 
Americans  as  after-dinner  speakers.  The  Eng 
lish  respect  us  for  our  cattle-ranches,  horse 
races,  wheat-fields,  yacht-building,  and  many 
other  things,  but  their  highest  appreciation 
of  America  is  on  account  of  our  after-dinner 
speakers.  They  do  not  read  the  American 
newspapers  very  much  as  a  rule,  for  which  I 
extend  to  them  my  sentiments  of  profound 
commiseration,  but  whenever  anything  occurs 
here  which  calls  for  a  lot  of  after-dinner 
speeches  from  prominent  men  it  has  a  way  of 
making  itself  known  and  talked  about  all  over 
England.  Englishmen  never  fail  to  attend 

200 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Litth  Life.      201 

any  social  affair  in  London  at  which  a  number 
of  prominent  Americans  are  expected  to  be 
present. 

Our  late  Consul-General,  Tom  Waller  of 
Connecticut,  was  a  great  favorite  there.  So 
was  Wayne  McVeagh,  who,  as  a  cabinet  officer, 
was  as  solemn  as  the  back  side  of  a  grave-stone. 
Moses  P.  Handy  is  another  man  very  popular 
over  there  for  his  after-dinner  orations;  and  if 
Jimmy  Husted,  the  "  Bald  Eagle  of  West- 
chester,"  ever  cares  to  change  his  occupation, 
he  can  make  his  fortune  in  a  short  time  by 
going  to  England  and  making  speeches.  The 
English  are  simply  amazed  at  the  quickness 
and  readiness  of  Americans  at  speech-making 
and  repartee.  No  Englisman  cares  to  compete 
with  one  of  them  at  the  dinner-table. 

Of  course  they  have  all  heard  of  Chauncey 
Depew,  and  some  of  his  good  stones  I  heard 
over  there  for  the  first  time.  One  which  was 
repeated  to  me  frequently  was  as  follows: 
"  When  I  was  about  fourteen  years  of  age,  my 
father  lived  on  an  old  farm  at  Poughkeepsie. 
One  day,  after  I  had  worked  very  hard  at  a 
five-acre  field  of  corn,  I  begged  permission  and 
money  to  go  to  the  circus.  While  I  was  there 
I  saw  a  spotted  coach-dog  which  took  my 
fancy,  and,  as  I  had  enough  money  left,  I 


202  The  People  I've  Smiled  With  : 

bought  him  and  took  him  home.  My  father, 
who  was  an  old  Puritan,  and  had  read  of 
Jacob's  little  game  with  the  sheep  of  Laban, 
said  to  me,  '  Chauncey,  I  don't  want  any  spot 
ted  dogs  on  this  farm  ;  they'll  drive  the  cattle 
crazy  and  spoil  the  breed  ! '  Next  day  it 
chanced  to  rain,  and  I  took  the  dog  out  into 
the  woods  to  try  him  on  a  coon,  but  to  my 
great  astonishment  the  rain  washed  all  the 
spots  off  of  him.  I  took  the  dog  back  to  the 
circus  man  who  sold  him  to  me  and  told  him 
that  all  the  spots  had  washed  off.  'Great 
Scott ! '  said  the  fellow,  with  an  affectation 
of  surprise.  '  There  was  an  umbrella  went 
with  that  dog  to  keep  him  dry.  Didn't  you 
get  it?"' 

The  English  like  the  optimistic  style  of  our 
speakers,  and  were  hugely  pleased  with  the 
retort  ascribed  to  a  little  fellow  who  had  no 
feet  and,  whom  a  lot  of  his  neighbors  set  up  in 
business  as  a  newsdealer  in  Harlem,  providing 
him  with  a  barrel  in  which  to  sit  and  hang  his 
stumps  so  that  the  wind  should  not  strike 
them.  One  day,  when  the  blizzard  was  raging 
violently,  he  went  on  selling  newspapers  as 
cheerily  as  if  nothing  was  occurring.  Finally 
a  friend  came  along  and  said  to  him :  "  Hello, 
Charley,  how  is  business?"  "  Well,"  said  the 


-Re'cdltctioM  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.       203 

( 

little  fellow,  looking  down  to  the  place  where 
his  feet  ought  to  be,  "  I  aint  kickin'." 

Bret  Harte  was  long  one  of  the  famous  after- 
dinner  speakers  in  London.  I  have  heard  that 
Bret's  printed  stories  are  written  with  great  care, 
leisure,  and  deliberation,  but  in  London  he 
always  succeeded  in  saying  something  entirely 
new  and  on  the  spur  of  the  moment.  He  set 
a  whole  table  laughing  once  by  telling  of  an 
Irishman  who  lost  his  way  in  a  large  city  and 
was  driving  up  and  down  in  his  cart,  which  was 
drawn  by  a  small  mule.  The  fellow  looked  so 
woe-begone  that  some  one.  shouted  to  him 
from  the  sidewalk  and  asked  him  where  he 
was  going.  "  I  don't  know,"  said  he,  "  ask 
the  mule." 

Another  after-dinner  story  that  people  do 
not  tire  of  over  there  was  about  a  German  re 
visiting  his  native  country,  who  was  questioned 
a  great  deal  by  one  of  the  native  princes. 
Said  the  prince :  "  Hans,  have  you  any  circus 
riders  in  America  ?  "  "  Yes,"  was  the  reply, 
"  we've  got  lots  of  them  ;  who  is  your  greatest 
rider  in  Germany  ?  "  "  Oh,  Hans  Wagner  ;  he 
is  the  greatest  rider  you  ever  saw  in  your  life." 
"  Well,"  said  the  returned  emigrant,  "  I'll  bet 
he  aint  much  to  what  we've  got  in  America. 
Now,  there's  Jim  Robinson,  I've  seen  him  run 


204  The  People  I've  Smiled  With: 

along  and  jump  off  a  horse's  back  and  on 
again  four  or  five  times."  "  Oh,  that's  noth 
ing,"  said  the  prince,  "  Hans  Wagner  does  that 
every  day  for  practice."  "  But  I've  seen 
Robinson  jump  on  a  horse  going  at  full  speed 
and  stand  with  one  foot  on  his  tail."  "  Yes, 
but  Hans  Wagner  did  that  when  he  was  a 
young  man  the  first  time  he  tried."  "  Well, 
but  I've  seen  Jimmy  Robinson  run  into  a  ring 
and  run  twice  around  with  the  horse,  and  then 
jump  and  land  right  on  the  horse's  breath." 
"  Well,  Hans  Wagner,  he — -see  here,  my  man, 
that's  a  lie;  I  don't  believe  that." 

Some  of  Horace  Porter's  stones  are  repeated 
over  there  with  great  gusto.  One  of  them  was 
carried  over  from  here,  having  been  given  after 
the  dinner  on  the  rooth  night  of  the  "  Taming 
of  the  Shrew,"  at  Mr.  Daly's  Theatre.  It  was 
a  story  of  Sherman's  march  to  the  sea.  It 
seems  that  Sherman  used  to  go  out  of  his  way 
to  avoid  bridges,  and  was  very  fond  of  fords. 
One  day  the  army  was  to  ford  a  river,  but  for 
miles  before  they  reached  it  they  waded  knee- 
deep  in  a  swamp,  and  one  soldier  finally  said 
to  another,  "  Bill,  I  guess  we've  struck  this 
river  lengthwise."  Porter's  story  of  the  man 
who  was  always  on  time  also  amused  the  Eng 
lish  immensely.  It  seems  this  fellow  kept  a 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.      205 

sort  of  schedule  of  his  day's  proceedings.  He 
would  arise  in  the  morning  at  a  certain  time, 
go  to  bed  at  a  certain  time,  eat  his  meals  at  a 
certain  time,  and  dress  at  a  certain  time,  and 
was  so  methodical  that  his  watch  was  in  his 
hand  a  great  deal  of  the  time.  One  day  his 
wife  died.  At  the  funeral,  as  the  remains  were 
lowered  into  the  grave  the  bereaved  husband 
wiped  his  weeping  eyes,  swallowed  a  sob  or 
two,  took  out  his  watch,  looked  at  it,  and 
murmured  :  "  Just  a  quarter  past  two  ;  got  her 
in  on  time." 

In  England  they  are  very  fond  of  repeating 
stories  told  by  Mark  Twain,  Bill  Nye,  and 
James  Whitcomb  Riley,  and  I  don't  wonder  at 
it,  for  there  are  few  men  who  better  under 
stand  the  art.  They  don't  resemble  each 
other  much  more  than  my  esteemed  friends, 
T.  De  Witt  Talmage  and  Colonel  Robert  G. 
Ingersoll,  but  each  talks  for  all  he  is  worth  and 
gets  there  every  time.  Mark  Twain  trans 
gresses  all  precedents  by  spinning  out  a  story 
to  an  immense  length,  yet  every  one  is  sorry 
when  he  sits  down.  Bill  Nye  gets  upon  his 
feet  so  full  of  what  he  is  going  to  say  that  it 
oozes  all  out  over  his  good-natured  face  and 
still  has  considerable  overflow  for  the  top  of 
his  shining  bald  head.  Riley  tells  his  story  in 


206  The  People  I've  Smiled  With : 

a  most  leisurely  and  quiet  manner  that  sug 
gests  a  great  deal  of  reserve  force,  but  when 
he  gets  to  the  point  he  does  it  so  sharply  and 
skilfully  that  the  audience  is  astounded  for  an 
instant,  and  when  they  do  catch  on  the  ap 
plause  is  terrific.  He  can  mix  the  humorous 
and  pathetic  more  skilfully  than  any  man 
I  ever  heard.  He  told  me  once  of  a  little 
fellow  who  had  a  curvature  of  the  spine.  He 
made  the  story  intensely  pathetic  until  I  began 
to  feel  for  my  handkerchief,  but  when  he  ex 
plained  how  the  little  chap  was  as  proud  of  his 
deformity  as  a  colored  man  would  be  of  a  new 
suit  of  clothes,  I  nearly  exploded.  I  didn't 
know  whether  I  was  crying  or  laughing. 

Although  it  isn't  to  the  point  of  American 
after-dinner  speaking,  I  want  to  record  just 
here  a  story  I  have  heard  about  Riley  out  in 
Union  City,  Indiana,  where  he  turned  up  once 
as  a  painter.  The  proprietor  of  the  hotel 
there  called  my  attention  to  the  sign  overhead 
his  door,  and  said  :  "  Do  you  see  that  sign  ?  " 
"Yes,"  said  I.  "Well,"  said  he,  "  that  was 
painted  by  James  Whitcomb  Riley,  the  poet, 
who  in  those  days  was  called  the  blind  painter 
of  Indiana.  They  called  him  blind  because 
when  he  went  up  on  a  ladder  he  traced  the 
outlines  of  the  letter  so  very  slowly,  and  filled 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little   Life.       207 

them  in  so  carefully,  that  you  hardly  could  see 
that  he  was  working  at  all ;  yet,  all  of  a  sud 
den,  the  whole  sign  was  done,  and  it  was  the 
best  work  of  the  kind  in  the  State  of  Indi 
ana  !  "  Riley  tells  stories  just  exactly  as  he 
painted  the  sign. 

If  the  English  want  to  know  how  well  our 
people  can  tell  after-dinner  stories,  however, 
they  ought  to  come  over  here  and  drop  into 
some  of  the  New  York  clubs,  and  hear  Judge 
Brady  and  Judge  Noah  Davis  and  David  Dud 
ley  Field,  and  some  other  men  who  to  the  gen 
eral  public  are  as  solemn  as  obituary  notices. 
When  these  men  do  find  time  for  recreation 
and  let  themselves  loose,  they  do  it  in  magnifi 
cent  style.  Once  up  at  the  Lambs'  Club  Judge 
Brady,  who  was  then  the  shepherd  of  that  pas 
toral  institution,  took  exception  to  something 
that  was  said  about  the  public  being  unable 
to  understand  big  words.  "  Any  one  can  un 
derstand  a  big  word,"  said  he.  "  Why,  a  little 
while  ago,  in  front  of  J.  M.  Hill's  cyclorama 
of  the  Battle  of  Gettysburg,  two  Irishmen 
stopped,  and  one  of  them,  looking  up  at  the 
round  building,  asked  the  other,  'What  is 
this  ?  '  4  This  is  a  cyclorama/  said  Pat.  'A 
what? 'asked  Mike.  'A  cyclorama.'  'Well, 
and  what's  a  cyclorama  ?  '  '  Don't  you  know 


208  The  People  I've  Smiled  With. 

what  a  cyclorama  is?'  '  Indade  I  don't/ 
'  Well,  cyclorama  is  dude  language  for  gas- 
house.'  ' 

When,  however,  you  want  to  hear  some  of 
the  best  American  speaking  at  the  shortest 
notice,  you  want  to  get  yourself  into  a  crowd 
of  newspaper  men.  For  particulars  see  next 
chapter. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

NEWSPAPER  MEN  ARE  RELIABLE  SMILERS. — JOHN  COCKER- 
ILL. — GENERAL  SHERMAN  EXPLAINS.— SOME  OF  COCKER- 
ILL'S  YARNS. — AMOS  CUMMINGS. — SOME  OF  HIS  STORIES. — 
JOE  HOWARD  BRINGS  DOWN  THE  HOUSE. — WILLIE  WIN 
TER. — HENRY  GUY  CARLETON  ON  COMMERCIAL  TRAVEL 
ERS. — BOB  MORRIS. — JOE  CLARKE. — JOHN  REED. — WILL 
STARKS. — GEORGE  WILLIAMS. — THE  PRESS  CLUB. — THE 
FELLOWCRAFT. 

AMONG  the  men  who  can  always  be  de 
pended  upon  to  smile  with  a  man  and  say  the 
best  things  at  the  shortest  notice,  the  journal 
ists  of  New  York  City  are  pre-eminent.  It 
takes  a  great  deal  of  good  stuff  to  make  one 
journalist,  but  after  the  work  is  done  the  re 
sults  are  so  admirable  that  the  reader  would 
not  object  to  spoiling  a  hundred  or  so  ordi 
nary  beings  for  the  sake  of  turning  out  one 
first-class  newspaper  man. 

The  qualifications  of  a  man  in  a  prominent 
position  in  journalism  are  so  numerous  that  it 
would  be  hard  to  mention  and  classify  them. 
Every  American  thinks  himself  able  to  edit  a 
newspaper,  and  I  don't  know  that  many  of 
209 


210  The  People  I've  Smiled  With: 

them  are  mistaken  ;  but  among  foreigners  I 
cannot  recall  at  this  instant  more  than  two  who 
would  be  equal  to  the  demands  of  the  New 
York  press  were  they  not  otherwise  engaged  at 
the  present  time  :  one  is  the  Pope  and  the 
other  is  Bismarck. 

To  name  all  the  clever  fellows  who  are  sup 
plying  the  world  with  news,  yet  find  time  to 
be  cheerful  with  any  half-way  decent  fellow 
who  comes  along,  would  take  more  space  than 
the  entirety  of  this  book,  even  if  the  names 
were  set  in  double  columns  in  directory  style. 
Of  course  they  are  not  all  in  New  York.  I 
never  yet  reached  the  town  that  had  a  news 
paper  of  any  account  without  finding  at  least 
one  good  fellow  of  the  journalist  fraternity,  but 
naturally  I  am  best  acquainted  with  those  who 
say  things  through  the  medium  of  the  press  of 
the  metropolis. 

Among  the  crowd  is  my  friend  Col.  Cock- 
erill.  It  is  astonishing  how  little  the  world 
knows  about  some  men  whose  names  are  on 
every  one's  lips.  A  little  while  ago  I  actually 
heard  an  intelligent  American  allude  to  Cocker- 
ill  as  having  gained  his  rank  in  the  Confederate 
Army.  There  were  plenty  of  good  fellows,  I 
have  no  doubt,  in  the  Confederate  Army ;  in 
fact,  I  have  met  a  great  many  of  them  in 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.       2I1 

recent  years ;  but  as  for  Cockerill, — well,  allow 
me  to  reproduce  a  story  by  Gen.  Sherman, 
told  at  the  Press  Club  ;  it  runs  thus,  as  nearly 
as  I  can  remember  the  General's  words  :  "  If 
you  fellows  would  promise  not  to  sing  '  March 
ing  through  Georgia  '  I'll  tell  you  a  little  story. 
I  came  here  to  the  Press  Club  to-night  espe 
cially  to  pay  my  respects  to  your  president,  Col. 
Cockerill.  I  presume  most  of  you  don't  know 
what  it  is  to  stand  in  the  position  of  a  man 
having  charge  of  the  lives  of  one  hundred 
thousand  men.  Fortunately  or  unfortunately, 
I  do.  Some  years  ago,  down  at  the  little 
village  of  Paducah,  Ohio,  the  i/th  Ohio  Regi 
men  reported  to  me.  Cockerill  was  in  that 
regiment  as  a  drummer  boy.  His  father  was 
there  too.  The  boy  got  his  education  in  Vir 
ginia,  but  he  was  true  to  the  nation.  He  stood 
heavy  fire  in  those  days,  and  that  is  what  made 
him  so  staunch  a  friend.  He  went  ahead,  right 
straight  along,  as  he  has  been  doing  ever  since. 
As  the  sins  of  the  father  go  down  to  the  fourth 
generation,  as  the  Bible  says,  it  is  a  comfort  to 
realize  that  the  virtues  go  down  too.  His 
father  was  a  splendid  man,  and  his  son  is  a 
chip  out  of  the  old  block.  I  know  him  to  be 
a  fellow  of  the  right  stamp,  and  I  congratulate 
you  on  having  chosen  him  for  your  president. 


212  The  People  I've  Smiled  With :. 

I  believe  he  is  about  forty  years  old.  I  hope 
he  will  live  to  be  forty  more."  I  guess  these 
remarks  dispose  of  the  story  which  a  good 
many  people  were  inclined  to  believe,  that  the 
Colonel  won  his  rank  in  the  Confederate  Army. 

Like  all  the  other  smart  fellows  of  the  world, 
Cockerill  can't  hear  of  anything  without  being 
reminded  of  a  story ;  the  last  one  he  told  me 
was  about  two  Englishmen  who  had  been  rich 
but  later  became  so  severely  reduced  in  cir 
cumstances  that  one  became  a  waiter  in  a 
shilling  restaurant  in  London  and  the  other 
had  became  reduced  to  a  shilling  and  hadn't 
had  anything  to  eat  for  a  day  or  two.  Finally, 
when  he  reached  the  point  where  he  had  either 
to  give  up  his  shilling  or  give  up  his  life,  he 
went  into  a  restaurant  to  get  a  dinner,  and 
found  his  old  comrade  there  waiting  on  the 
the  table.  "  Ton  my  word,"  said  he,  "  it's  very 
hard,  old  friend,  for  me  to  see  you  here  as  low 
down  as  this, — actually  a  waiter  in  a  shilling 
restaurant."  "  Yes,  old  chappie,"  said  the 
other  cheerily,  "  it's  pretty  hard  to  be  a  waiter 
here,  I  confess,  but  all  the  same  I've  never  got 
down  so  low  that  I  have  had  to  eat  my  dinner 
here." 

One  of  Cockerill's  stories  has  gone  all  over 
the  country  in  print.  I  have  heard  many 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.          213 

stories  with  double  meanings,  but  I  never  be 
fore  struck  any  which  were  as  doubly  suggest 
ive  as  are  some  of  his. 

Another  famous  story-teller  on  the  New 
York  press — he  is  also  a  Member  of  Congress — 
is  Amos  Cummings.  Some  one  was  telling 
about  having  been  mixed  up  in  a  discussion 
over  abstract  principles  where  hairs  were  split 
and  split  until  each  of  the  principals  lost  entire 
sight  of  the  original  point  he  was  aiming  at. 
It  reminded  Amos  of  this  story :  An  Irishman 
walked  up  to  the  refreshment  stand  of  a  rail 
way  station  and  said  to  the  young  lady, 
"  What  have  you  got  there  ?  "  "  Apples,"  she 
said.  "How  much?"  "Five  cents  apiece." 
He  took  an  apple  in  his  hand,  looked  at 
another  plate  of  fruit,  and  said :  "  What's 
these?"  "Oranges,  sir."  "How  much  are 
they?  "  "  Five  cents  each."  "  Same  price  as 
the  apples?"  "Yes."  "  Would  you  mind  givin* 
me  an  orange  for  this  apple?"  "You  are 
quite  welcome,"  says  she,  "  to  exchange  them." 
He  took  the  orange  and  ate  it,  and  was  going 
out,  when  the  young  woman  shouted,  "  Wont 
you  pay  for  it  ?  "  "  Pay  for  what  ?  "  says  Pat. 
"  Why,  for  the  orange,  to  be  sure."  "  Why,  I 
gave  you  the  apple  for  the  orange."  "  Yes, 
sir,  but  you  haven't  paid  for  the  apple." 


214  The  People  I've  Smiled  With: 

"  Well,  I  gave  you  back  the  apple,  what  do 
you  want, — the  whole  earth  ?  " 

I  have  heard  a  great  deal  about  the  imagi 
native  faculty  in  Irishmen,  but  I  never  knew  it 
better  delineated  than  by  Amos  Cummings 
when  he  told  of  an  Irishman  who  was  wheeling 
a  heavy  barrel  up  a  road  and  some  one  said  to 
him,  "  Mike,  what  have  you  in  that  barrel?" 
"  Well,  sor,"  was  the  reply,  "  upon  my  word  I 
don't  know.  One  side  of  it  says  Rye  Whiskey 
and  the  other's  marked  Pat  Duffy." 

Joe  Howard  is  another  famous  newspaper 
man  in  the  metropolis.  I  could  scarcely  tell  to 
what  paper  he  is  attached  if  I  tried, — he 
writes  for  so  many.  Joe  has  a  dome  of 
thought  resembling  that  of  the  late  lamented 
William  Shakespeare,  a  resemblance  to  which 
his  moustache  and  goatee  tellingly  contribute. 
I  suppose  he  is  pretty  well  along  in  years,  as 
he  has  several  married  children,  but  his  spirits 
are  about  eighteen  years  of  age  and  grow 
younger  every  moment  while  he  talks.  He 
not  only  can  tell  a  first-rate  story,  but  he  can 
turn  some  other  man's  story  in  a  direction 
which  the  original  owner  never  would  have 
imagined.  One  day,  over  at  the  Press  Club, 
my  dear  old  friend  Peter  Cooper,  of  sainted 
memory,  was  giving  the  boys  some  good 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.       215 

advice.  He  knew  that  newspaper  men  worked 
very  hard,  earned  a  great  deal  of  money,  spent 
it  f  reely,and  he  wanted  to  give  them  a  practical 
hint,  so  he  told  them  that  one  of  the  most  use 
ful  things  in  the  world  to  a  young  man,  after 
a  good  character,  was  a  bank  account.  Even 
if  he  contributed  to  it  very  slowly  he  would 
find  it  a  tower  of  strength  and  a  source  of 
comfort.  I  know  that  his  remarks  bad  upon 
a  number  of  members  the  effect  which  he  de 
sired,  nevertheless  I  was  amused  when  Joe 
Howard  popped  up  and  remarked  :  "  I  wish  to 
add  t'he  weight  of  my  testimony,  such  as  it  is, 
to  that  which  our  venerable  and  esteemed 
friend  has  so  kindly  given  us.  A  •  few  years 
ago  he  said  to  me  just  what  he  has  said  to  all  of 
you  to-night,  and  impressed  me  so  powerfully 
that  I  went  out  and  opened  a  bank  account  at 
once.  I  have  it  yet.  Yes,  gentlemen,  I  am 
happy  to  say  I  have  it  yet.  It  has  been  about 
$400  overdrawn  for  two  years  ;  still,  that  bank 
account  is  mine."  Even  Mr.  Cooper  had  to 
laugh  then. 

Willie  Winter  is  anpther  one  of  the  wits  of 
the  New  York  press.  He  is  a  very  solemn- 
looking  fellow,  and  I  have  heard  that  he  con 
fines  his  humourous  exuberance  to  the  columns 
of  the  newspaper  on  whose  staff  he  has  been  a 


216  The  People  I've  Smiled  With  : 

valuable  contributor  for  a  good  many  years,  but 
the  only  time  I  ever  heard  him  speak  in  public 
he  was  quite  equal  to  the  occasion.  It  was  a 
dinner  at  which  General  Sherman  presided. 
My  name  was  on  the  list,  but  perhaps  the 
General  had  mislaid  his  glasses,  for  instead  of 
calling  for  Wilder  he  named  Winter.  Wrinter, 
who  had  seen  the  list  himself,  arose  and  re 
marked  gravely  :  "  I  had  found  myself  almost 
entirely  forgotten  here,  but  General  Sherman, 
who  never  yet  disappointed  any  expectations 
which  were  made  of  him,  looked  for  me  in  the 
person  of  my  esteemed  friend,  Marshall  Wilder. 
I  was  not  in  the  least  disappointed.  It  re 
minded  me  of  an  old  yarn  about  a  negro 
preacher  who  used  to  open  a  Bible  at  random 
when  he  went  into  the  pulpit,  and  one  day  he 
stumbled  on  a  chapter  which  is  the  terror  of 
young  people  who  attempt  to  commit  the  Bible 
to  memory,  and  read  as  follows :  '  And  unto 
Enoch  was  born  Irad,  and  Irad  forgot  Mehu- 
jael,  and  Mehujael  forgot  Methusael,  and 
Methusael  forgot  Lamech,  and  Lamech  took 
unto  him  two  wives  and  forgot  Jabal. — Now, 
my  beloved  bruddern,  dis  text  am  meant  to 
show  you  firstly  dat  dem  old  patriarchs,  dey 
was  mighty  forgitful.'  Never  mind  about  the 
rest." 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.        217 

Henry  Guy  Carleton  is  another  clever  news 
paper  man.  He  used  to  be  an  officer  of  the 
regular  army,  and  his  sketches  of  army  life  on 
the  border,  published  a  few  years  ago  in  the 
New  York  Times,  are  so  killingly  funny  that  I 
have  never  been  able  to  understand  why  they 
didn't  appear  afterward  in  book  form,  so  that 
people  could  laugh  over  them  not  only  for  a  day 
but  for  ail  time.  The  first  I  heard  of  Carleton 
was  at  a  dinner  of  the  Commercial  Travellers' 
Club.  I  did  my  best  when  my  turn  came  to 
speak,  for  I  knew  those  travellers  were  a  re 
markably  smart  set  of  fellows,  and  knew  more 
about  chestnuts  than  all  the  Italians  who  infest 
our  street  corners  combined.  I  did  the  best 
I  could.  Joe  Howard  also  made  a  tremendous 
hit.  Carleton  couldn't  go,  but  he  sent  a  letter 
which  put  the  assemblage  in  fits.  It  is  as 
follows  : 

"WILL  L.  HEYER  :— 

"DEAR  SIR:  I  pen  these  few  lines  with  a  soul 
full  of  emotion,  sorrowing  that  I  cannot  be 
with  you  to-night.  I  feel  that  by  staying  away 
from  the  large,  long  feed  to  which  you  so  kindly 
invited  me,  I  am  losing  the  one  opportunity  of 
my  life  to  get  square  with  the  drummers. 
During  my  long  and  variable  career  as  a 
private  citizen  I  have  travelled  a  great  deal,  but 
1  have  never  yet  seen  a  real  live  drummer.  I 


218  The  People  I've  Smiled  With: 

have  often  heard  of  him,  but  he  was  always 
about  ten  minutes  ahead  of  me.  All  the  best 
rooms  were  occupied  when  I  arrived,  and  the 
affections  of  the  prettiest  girls  had  all  been 
placed.  I  never  got  a  lower  berth  on  a  train 
but  once,  and  that  was  when  a  drummer,  who 
had  got  in  ahead  of  me,  gave  it  up  so  that  he 
could  offer  his  condolences  to  a  poor  little 
orphan  girl,  aged  about  twenty-five  years,  in 
another  car,  who  was  on  her  way  to  join  her 
parents  in  Kankakee.  I  once  paid  $4  a  day  in 
Denver  where  I  was  shown  up  to  room  947 
on  the  eighth  floor,  with  a  cracked  mirror,  no 
soap,  one  towel,  a  package  of  insect  powder, 
and  a  bureau  with  no  handles  on  it,  while  the 
blue-eyed  drummer  with  gold  filling  in  his 
front  teeth  who  arrived  just  before  me  got  the 
best  chamber  for  $2,  with  ten  per  cent,  off  for 
cash.  But  let  this  pass ;  I  have  noticed  that 
drummers  are  always  complaining  of  loss  of 
appetite,  but  I  have  also  observed  that  there  is 
seldom  anything  left  after  they  get  through, 
except  the  cut-glass  pickle  dish,  four  corks,  and 
the  mustard.  I  would  be  a  drummer  myself, 
but  my  intimate  friends  say  that  I  am  not  shy 
and  retiring  enough  ;  they  say  also  that  I  talk 
too  much. 

"Yours  very  truly, 

"  HENRY  GUY  CARLETON." 

Bob  Morris  is  ,  also  noted  in  the  journalistic 
fraternity  as  a  story-teller.  Bob  is  very  lame 
in  both  feet  and  needs  a  thick  cane  to  help  him 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life. 

along.  He  ought  to  have  a  medal  of  honor 
big  enough  to  cover  his  entire  breast  and  hang 
all  over  him  beside,,  for  many  years  ago,  when 
he  was  an  athletic  young  sailor  and  officer  in 
the  merchant  marine,  both  his  feet  were  frozen 
on  account  of  his  heroic  endeavors  to  save  the 
lives  of  some  of  his  messmates  who  were  in 
danger  of  drowning,  during  a  wreck.  The  dis 
ability  didn't  reach  his  head,  however  ;  it  didn't 
even  get  up  to  his  heart,  for  Bob  is  always  bub 
bling  over  with  good  stones.  In  recent  years 
he  has  written  several  plays,  and  I  am  glad  to 
say  he  is  on  the  high  road  to  success.  I  don't 
know  of  any  one  who  more  richly  deserves  it. 

Joe  Clarke  is  another  famous  story-teller. 
His  duties  as  managing  editor  confine  him  very 
closely  to  his  desk,  but  when  any  acquaintance 
chances  to  catch  him  on  the  elevated  train  be 
tween  his  office  and  his  house  they  are  sure  of 
getting  a  good  story,  and  probably  half  a  dozen. 
Joe  is  one  of  the  few  men  who  look  as  if  hard 
work  agreed  with  them.  He  is  rotund,  smooth 
faced,  bright-eyed,  has  a  fine  complexion,  and 
like  his  hearty  admirer,  the  author,  never  drinks 
anything  stronger  than  water. 

Another  famous  fellow  for  good  stories  is 
John  Reed.  John  has  done  so  much  long  and 
steady  work  as  a  «aanaging  editor  that  his  ac- 


220  The  People  I've  Smiled  With: 

quaintances  have  been  able  to  catch  him  only 
about  as  they  catch  angels'  visits — that  is,  un 
awares  ;  but  after  two  o'clock  at  night,  or  rather 
in  the  morning,  when  the  paper  is  made  up, 
John  will  sit  down  at  any  of  the  all-night  soda 
fountains  and  tell  stories  as  long  as  any  one 
else  will  prompt  him  by  telling  stones  them 
selves.  He  doesn't  allow  anyone  to  get  ahead 
of  him. 

Will  Starks  has  about  as  large  a  collection  of 
good  stories  as  any  man  on  the  New  York  press, 
and  he  makes  them  all  the  better  by  telling  them 
with  as  solemn  a  face  as  if  he  were  a  Presby 
terian  minister  warning  his  hearers  to  flee  from 
the  wrath  to  come.  Bill  looks  to  be  about 
thirty-five  years  of  age,  but  as  he  was  a  famous 
war  correspondent  twenty-five  years  ago,  and 
a  most  effective  cavalry  officer  before  that,  I 
guess  he  must  have  found  the  fountain  of  youth 
somewhere.  When  he  recalls  a  first-rate  thing 
from  his  memories  of  every  State  of  the  Union, 
and  some  foreign  countries  besides,  he  does  not, 
like  some  men  I  know,  go  out  at  once  to  find 
some  one  to  try  it  on,  but  he  writes  it  out,  puts 
it  in  print,  and  modestly  but  hypocritically 
credits  it  to  some  other  newspaper.  Bill  knows 
as  much  about  Cuba  and  Mexico  as  most  men 
do  about  the  United  States.  He  is  a  rich  mine 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.        2  z  r 

of  war  reminiscences,  but  never  gives  up  a  war 
story  unless  it  is  dragged  out  of  him  by  main 
force.  When  that  occurs,  however,  jt  is  safe 
for  the  listeners  to  loosen  a  vest-button  or  two 
and  draw  a  full  breath. 

Should  any  man  be  pining  for  a  war  story, 
and  can't  get  one  anywhere  else,  he  can  be  ac 
commodated  by  applying  in  proper  manner  to 
George  F.  Williams,  who  will  be  pleasantly  re 
called  by  every  one  when  I  say  it  was  he  who 
devised  and  managed  the  children's  excursions 
which  were  such  a  delightful  indication  of  New 
York's  big  heart  a  few  years  ago.  George  also 
was  a  soldier  and  war  correspondent,  and  al 
though  sometimes  he  grew  very  weary  through 
lack  of  sleep  during  the  discharge  of  the  serious 
duties  incumbent  upon  him,  his  memory  was 
never  weakened  in  the  slightest  degree.  He 
knew  every  general  in  the  army,  always  got  his 
copy  in  on  time,  never  did  any  padding,  and 
yet  heard  every  good  story  that  was  told  in  any 
department  of  our  great  army.  Still  more,  he 
could  always  find  time  to  drop  in  wherever 
there  were  any  prisoners  of  war  and  catalogue 
the  jokes  that  were  current  on  the  other  side. 
George  is  almost  as  tall  as  the  late  lamented 
General  Scott,  has  splendid  broad  shoulders, 
and  honorably  wears  the  old  "  knapsack  stoop  " 


222  The  People  I've  Smiled  With. 

of  the  volunteer  army,  although  he  quickly 
earned  shoulder  straps  and  an  enviable  rank, 
which  he  resigned  solely  for  the  purpose  of 
going  back  to  his  first  love,  which  was  the  jour 
nalistic  profession. 

The  New  York  newspaper  men  have  two 
clubs — the  Press  Club  and  the  Fellowcraft,  the 
latter  being  so  high-toned  and  exclusive  that 
there's  many  a  millionnaire  who  hasn't  influence 
enough  to  pass  its  doors.  That's  all  right, 
though;  if  newspaper  men  don't  deserve  a 
cozy,  quiet  place 'of  retreat,  I  don't  know  who 
does. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

SOME  POINTS  OF  BUSINESS. — No  TRICK  ABOUT  IT. — A  MAT 
TER  OF  LONG  PRACTICE. — MY  EARLIEST  APPEARANCE. — 
JOE  JEFFERSON. — A  GALLOWS  FOR  A  STAGE. — BUFFALO 
BILL  WITH  RED  HAIR. — MY  FRIENDS  THE  NEWSBOYS. — 
I  LEARNED  SOMETHING  FROM  TALMAGE. — A  HINT  TO 
PREACHERS. —MARCUS  SPRING'S  STORY. — THE  BOSTON 
COMMON  INCIDENT  ADAPTED. 

AMONG  my  best  friends — those  who  are 
most  heartily  pleased  at  all  success  which  I 
have  achieved  in  my  profession — are  a  number 
who  are  more  and  more  surprised,  as  time 
goes  on,  that  I  get  along  as  well  as  I  do. 
They  are  not  in  the  business  themselves,  so 
they  look  on  from  afar  off  and  imagine  there 
is  some  trick  about  it  in  some  way.  I  have 
heard  people  talk  the  same  way  after  listening 
to  Patti  sing  through  an  opera  requiring  great 
abilities  in  acting,  vocalization,  and  facial  ex 
pression,  and  wonder  how  she  succeeded  in 
getting  everything  "  down  fine."  There  is 
nothing  wonderful  about  it  to  me,  for  she  went 
on  the  stage  at  a  very  early  age.  I  am  told 
her  first  appearance  was  during  her  third  year, 
when  she  was  carried  on  in  a  child's  part. 
223 


224  The  People  I've  Smiled  With  : 

Well,  begging  pardon  for  comparing  myself 
in  any  way  with  so  incomparable  an  artist  as 
Madame  Patti,  I  want  to  explain  to  my  friends 
that  I  didn't  jump  suddenly  into  the  business 
which  now  occupies  most  of  my  time.  I  had 
a  long  preparatory  course  of  an  irregular  na 
ture.  I  have  already  alluded  to  the  barn  the 
atrical  company  which  I  managed  when  I  was 
a  small  boy,  but  I  look  back  to  those  days  with 
considerable  satisfaction,  for  they  set  me  to 
thinking  about  how  to  secure  an  effect  upon 
an  audience,  and  the  habit  then  formed  has 
never  left  me. 

My  first  attempt,  however,  to  amuse  the  pub 
lic  was  made  still  earlier.  I  was  only  about 
eight  years  of  age  when  the  people  in  the 
rural  district  in  which  I  lived  planned  an  en 
tertainment.  They  played  Mary  Queen  of 
Scots.  Your  stalwart  American  backwoods 
man  has  a  faculty  of  always  trying  the  hardest 
thing  first ;  that  is  why  he  develops  into  such 
a  splendid  fellow.  When  Mary  came  upon 
the  stage  with  the  headsman,  the  property- 
man  had  failed  to  remember  that  an  axe  was 
necessary,  in  keeping  up  the  illusion,  and  the 
performance  had  to  wait  while  they  sent  out 
and  borrowed  a  meat-axe  from  the  nearest 
butcher.  Everybody  in  the  vicinity  knew  that 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.        225 

meat-axe  at  sight,  and  as  the  headsman  took  it 
and  stalked  across  the  stage  very  solemnly,  to 
chills-and-fever  music  by  the  local  band,  I 
shouted  out  :  "  Save  me  a  spare-rib  !  "  That 
scene  was  a  failure  for  the  company,  but  as  my 
first  attempt  at  wit  it  made  a  tremendous 
success,  which  so  pleased  me  that  I  have  ever 
since  had  my  mind  running  on  that  sort  of 
thing. 

My  first  appearance  on  the  professional 
stage  was  made  at  Roberts'  Opera  House, 
Hartford,  when  I  was  a  school-boy  in  that 
town.  Joe  Jefferson  came  there  to  play  Rip 
Van  Winkle,  and,  as  every  one  remembers,  he 
makes  his  first  appearance  in  the  play  with 
a  child  on  his  back  and  a  number  of  other 
children  following.  It  was  always  desirable  to 
secure  a  youngster  who  was  not  very  heavy,  to 
sit  on-  Rip's  shoulders,  yet  old  enough  not  to  be 
frightened  at  the  applause  with  which  the 
scene  is  always  greeted.  I  was  always  hanging 
about  that  opera  house,  and  frequently  suc 
ceeded,  being  very  short,  in  hiding  under  a 
seat  so  that  I  could  be  in  the  house  without  a 
ticket  before  the  performance  began.  The 
janitor  knew  this  trick  of  mine,  and  thought 
he  might  as  well  make  use  of  me  in  some 
way  to  pay  expenses,  so  he  selected  me  on  one 


a  26  The  People  I've  Smiled  With: 

occasion  as  the  boy  to  sit  on  Jefferson's  shoul 
ders. 

Then  I  considered  myself  in  luck.  I  reached 
the  theatre  at  half-past  six, — an  hour  and  a 
half  too  early,  so  as  to  be  sure  to  be  there  on 
time.  Jefferson  arrived  late,  and  was  kind 
enough  to  ask  me  into  his  dressing-room,  and 
perhaps  my  mouth  and  eyes  weren't  wide 
opened  as  I  saw  him  make  up  for  his  part ! 
Finally,  he  said,  "  Now,  little  fellow,"  and 
stooped  down.  I  jumped  upon  his  back,  and 
off  he  started  for  the  stage.  The  instant  he 
appeared  there  was  a  tremendous  round  of 
applause,  which  I,  with  the  customary  modesty 
of  childhood,  imagined  was  intended  entirely 
for  me.  A  happier  boy  never  lived. 

This  experience  made  me  so  in  love  with 
the  theatre  that  I  again  began  to  give 
dramatic  entertainments  myself.  I  couldn't 
hire  a  hall,  and  the  janitor  cruelly  refused  me 
the  use  of  the  opera  house,  but  where  there  is 
a  will  there  is  a  way.  The  old  Hartford  Jail 
had  a  garret  in  the  top  of  the  building,  and 
the  jailer's  family  lived  on  the  floor  beneath 
it ;  the  jailer's  son  was  a  friend  of  mine,  and 
as  fond  of  theatricals  as  I,  so  we  used  to  give 
entertainments  up  in  that  garret.  The  town 
gallows,  when  not  in  use,  was  kept  up  there, 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.       227 

and  we  rigged  that  up  as  a  stage  and  hung  a 
curtain  in  front  of  it.  When  Buffalo  Bill 
visited  Hartford  with  Ned  Buntline's  com 
pany  fifteen  or  twenty  years  ago,  my  friend 
and  I  saw  him  as  often  as  possible,  and  re 
membered  all  we  could  of  the  play ;  then  we 
would  give  it,  to  a  carefully  selected  audience- 
up  in  that  garret.  The  jailer's  son  played 
Buffalo  Bill's  part ;  he  had  fiery  red  hair, 
which  was  cut  very  short ;  consequently  he 
did  not  resemble  Bill  very  much,  but  between 
our  histrionic  ability  and  the  extra  attraction 
of  our  playing  from  the  gallows  from  which 
some  men  had  been  hung,  we  succeeded  in  ex 
torting  five  cents  for  every  ticket.  Even  at 
this  late  day  I  don't  hesitate  to  say  the  show 
was  worth  the  money.  I'd  give  a  hundred 
times  as  much  now  to  see  a  lot  of  boys  go 
through  the  same  performance  from  so  sugges 
tive  a  stage. 

Having  been  a  boy,  and  not  so  very  long 
ago  either,  I  have  a  great  deal  of  sympathy 
with  the  youngsters  and  hearty  fondness  for 
them.  No  part  of  my  professional  duties  has 
been  more  pleasant  than  that  of  entertaining 
newsboys  and  bootblacks  in  New  York,  as  I 
do  frequently.  What  delights  me  most  about 
it  is  that  my  juvenile  audiences  never  forget 


228  The  People  I've  Smiled  With  : 

me.  I  had  an  amusing  and  touching  illustra 
tion  of  it  not  very  long  ago.  I  was  at  the  foot 
of  the  elevated  railway  stairs  at  Chambers 
Street  trying  to  get  up.  There  was  a  great 
crowd  there,  and  a  very  big  fellow,  not  noticing 
me,  pushed  me  aside.  Instantly  two  newsboys 
rushed  up,  and  one  of  them  shouted:  "See 
here ;  don't  you  shove  that  little  fellow  or 
knock  him  around;  that's  Wilder  the  humourist, 
and  when  you  hit  him  you  hit  us."  The  man 
turned  around,  and  when  he  could  bend  his 
neck  enough  to  look  down  to  where  I  was  he 
said  pleasantly :  "  Beg  pardon,  Mr.  Wilder ;  I 
didn't  see  you."  But  the  boys  were  not  quick 
to  accept  his  explanation ;  their  lips  were 
rolled  out,  and  their  teeth  exposed  plainly, 
until  the  big  fellow  took  me  under  his  wing 
and  guarded  me  safely  all  the  way  up  the  stairs. 
While  my  juvenile  head  was  full  of  dramatic 
projects  and  possibilities,  I  got  an  important 
lesson  from  the  Rev.  T.  DeWitt  Talmage.  I 
know  that  he  is  not  a  professor  in  the  school 
of  acting,  nevertheless  you  can  learn  something 
from  anybody  if  you  will  take  the  trouble  to 
listen  and  not  be  conceited.  He  came  to 
Rochester  once  when  I  was  a  school-boy  there, 
and  was  to  lecture  at  Corinthian  Hall.  I  hap 
pened  to  be  hanging  about  there  during  the 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.        229 

afternoon  when  he  dropped  in  to  look  at  the 
place  where  he  was  to  speak,  and  he  saw  me 
and  patted  me  on  the  head  and  said  :  "  Well, 
my  little  man,  are  you  coming  to  hear  my 
lecture  to-night?"  I  looked  up  and  said: 
"Well,  sir;  I  don't  think  your  lecture  will  be 
entertaining  to  boys."  "You  don't,  eh,"  he 
laughed  ;  "  why,  what  am  I  myself  but  a  boy  ?  " 
That  caught  me,  so  I  went  there  that  evening 
and  enjoyed  the  lecture  very  much.  I  looked 
at  him  all  the  while.  I  couldn't  possibly  help 
it,  for  I  was  curious  every  minute,  almost  every 
second,  to  see  what  he  would  do  next.  He  was 
never  quiet.  He  talked  with  his  face  as  much  as 
with  his  tongue,  and  he  put  in  a  good  deal  of 
work  with  his  hands,  with  his  feet,  and  all  the 
rest  of  his  body.  He  was  all  over  that  plat 
form  at  least  sixty  times  in  the  course  of  the 
hour  in  which  he  spoke,  and  I  heartily  approve 
of  everything  he  did.  I  got  the  idea  there, 
which  some  conscientious  readers  and  recita- 
tionists  seem  to  have  missed  all  their  lives, 
that  when  a  man  has  a  good  thing  to  get  off 
he  must  not  trust  it  entirely  to  his  tongue. 

That  is  just  the  difference  between  acting 
and  preaching.  I  learned  it  during  that  even 
ing,  and  I  never  forgot  to  act  accordingly. 
There  is  scarcely  a  thing  that  I  say  on  the 


230  The  People  I've  Smiled  With: 

stage  or  platform  which  has  not  been  said  by 
a  great  many  other  people,  but  I  help  my 
tongue  along  to  the  best  of  my  ability  with 
face,  eyes,  cheeks,  hands,  and  feet.  There  is 
everything  in  the  way  a  thing  is  put.  If  there 
wasn't,  a  school  dialogue  would  be  as  good  as 
one  of  Booth's  tragedies  or  Daly's  comedies. 
I  have  seen  some  atrocious  plays  draw  for  a 
hundred  successive  nights  in  New  York,  not 
for  anything  that  the  author  had  said  or  done, 
but  because  of  the  ability  of  the  artists.  A 
great  many  preachers  now  living  could  profit 
as  much  as  I  did  by  studying  Talmage  for  a 
little  while. 

The  difference  reminds  me  of  a  story  which 
the  late  Marcus  Spring  of  New  Jersey,  a  gentle 
man  who  left  a  most  enviable  reputation  be 
hind  him  for  geniality  and  courtesy,  used  to 
tell  about  an  old  colored  woman  who  lived  in 
his  vicinity.  Spring  was  quite  a  persistent 
church-goer,  and  one  day  he  was  astonished  to 
see  this  old  woman  get  in  an  ecstacy  of  smiles 
and  tears  over  a  very  poor  sermon, — a  sermon 
by  one  of  the  old-fashioned  pulpit-pounding, 
Gospel-chewing  preachers,  whose  sermons  have 
as  much  verbiage  and  little  sense  as  a  dic 
tionary  after  it  has  been  ground  to  bits  in 
a  coffee-mill.  Said  Mr.  Spring :  "Auntie,  I 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.         231 

don't  see  why  you  make  such  a  fuss  over  what 
that  man  said  to  you.  If  you  are  affected  by 
that  sort  of  thing,  I  believe  I  could  make  you 
cry  and  shout  by  simply  saying,  '  See  that 
rabbit  run  across  that  field ! '  She  resented 
the  imputation,  so  I  immediately  struck  a  pul 
pit  attitude  and  in  my  most  impressive  manner 
repeated  the  words  given  above.  Sure  enough, 
the  old  woman  burst  into  a  flood  of  tears  and 
got  off  several  pious  ejaculations.  '  There/ 
said  I,  'didn't  I  tell  you  I  could  do  it?' 
'Yes,  Massa  Spring,'  said  she,  /you  did, 
but, — oh,  you  didn't  tell  me  you  was  goin'  to 
put  de  heavenly  twang  into  it.  Dat's  what 
took  me,  massa.' " 

One  of  my  most  successful  appearances  was 
in  imitation  of  a  historic  character  dear  to  all 
small  boys ;  I  allude  to  the  spokesman  of  that 
crowd  of  little  Bostonians  who  went  to  Gen. 
Howe  once  during  the  British  occupation  of 
Boston  and  protested  against  the  abridgement 
of  their  liberties  to  the  extent  of  playing  on 
Boston  Common.  Right  beside  our  school  in 
Rochester  was  a  bit  of  ground  on  which  we 
boys  used  to  play  ball,  but  an  old  German  living 
near  by  protested  against  the  game  because  we 
made  so  much  noise  and  disturbed  him.  I 
guess  he  drank  too  much  beer,  and  had  a  bad 


232  The  People  I've  Smiled  With. 

stomach.  The  old  fellow  went  to  police  head 
quarters,  and  an  order  was  issued  from  there 
that  the  boys  should  stop  playing  ball  on  that 
ground.  We  fellows  held  a  wrathful  consulta 
tion,  and  it  was  decided  that  something  should 
be  done.  Recalling  the  Boston  incident,  it  was 
agreed  that  we  should  make  an  appeal  to  the 
Mayor.  A  committee  of  four  was  appointed, 
and  I  was  selected,  as  spokesman.  We  went  to 
the  Mayor's  office,  and  I  stated  the  case  to  Mayor 
Parsons.  My  heart  was  in  my  mouth  all  the 
while,  but  the  boys  said  I  did  splendidly,  and 
I  guess  I  did,  for  the  Mayor  compelled  the 
police  to  rescind  their  order.  Before  that  the 
boys  didn't  seem  to  think  much  of  me,  because 
I  couldn't  work  and  wasn't  equal  to  all  the 
onerous  duties  of  ball  playing,  but  after  that  I 
was  the  biggest  man  at  the  school.  To  my 
great  delight,  last  summer,  at  Saratoga,  I 
met  Mayor  Parsons  and  recalled  the  incident. 
He  remembered  it  at  once,  and  we  had  a  hearty 
laugh  over  it. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

PART  OF  MY  PAY.—  THE  FUN  I  GET  FROM  MY  HEARERS.— 
THEY  ASKED  FOR  MY  FATHER. — A  THRIFTY  HEBREW. — 
No  CREED  ABOUT  MONEY. — EXPECTED  TO  PARADE. — SOME 
GREAT-HEARTED  PHILADELPHIANS. — A  BLIND  ORCHESTRA. 
— CABMEN'S  JOKES.— CARL  ZERRAHN'S  PREDICAMENT. — 
TAMING  A  BEAR. — MIND  READING. 

SINCE  I  succeeded  in  becoming  pretty  well 
known  as  a  man  who  makes  people  smile,  I 
have  received  very  good  pay,  better,  I  suspect 
sometimes,  than  I  deserve,  but  a  great  deal  of 
my  compensation  comes  out  of  the  fun  which 
I  stumble  upon  unexpectedly  in  the  course  of 
my  work. 

It  is  not  always  fun  ;  for  instance,  sometimes 
when  I  give  an  entertainment  for  the  benefit  of 
a  Sunday-school  or  church,  and  the  church  build 
ing  itself  is  the  place  in  which  I  am  to  speak, 
the  minister  will  come  to  me  and  say  :  "  Now, 
Mr.  Wilder,  you  must  be  very  careful ;  please 
remember  that  this  a  church.  I  hope  you  will 
select  your  words  very  carefully  while  you  are 
on  the  platform."  It  isn't  specially  inspiring 
to  have  this  sort  of  thing  said  just  as  you 


"  go  on." 


233 


234  The  People  I've  Smiled  With  : 

There  is  no  end  to  the  funny  incidents  that 
come  to  me  through  my  smallness  of  stature. 
I  remember  going  to  one  town  and,  on  landing 
at  the  station,  rinding  nobody  there  but  two 
men  who  were  looking  around  in  a  helpless 
manner.  One  of  them  finally  said  to  the  other: 
"  Well,  I  guess  he  isn't  coming;  I  don't  know 
what  we're  going  to  do ;  the  only  passenger 
that  came  off  that  train  was  that  little  boy 
there.  I  guess  we'll  have  to  go  up  and  get  the 
dominie  to  make  a  speech,  and  then  get  the 
choir  to  sing  Moody  and  Sankey  hymns  or  some- 
thing.  I'll  never  engage  another  of  them 
lecturers  to  come  down  from  New  York  City 
again.  There's  that  whole  town-hall  full  of 
people  by  this  time,  and  they  are  all  going  to 
be  disappointed."  I  went  up  to  him  and  said  : 
"Are  you  one  of  the  lecture  committee?" 
"Yes,"  said  he,  "  My  name  is  Brown."  "  Well," 
said  I,  "  my  name  is  Wilder."  "  Oh,"  said  he, 
"  it  is,  eh  ?  Well,  sonny,  where  is  your  dad  ?  " 

Some  entertainment  committees  act,  regard 
ing  their  financial  engagements,  in  a  way  that 
reminds  me  of  an  enterprising  Hebrew  who 
once  came  to  engage  me.  He  said  :  "  Mr.  Wild 
er,  I  want  to  give  an  entertainment  to  some 
of  my  friends,  and  I'd  stand  five  or  ten  dollars 
to  have  you  there  to  say  something.  Have 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.       235 

you  anything  to  do  next  Monday  night  ?  " 
"No,"  said  I,  "  but  my  price  is  fifty  dollars." 
"  Oh,  well,"  said  he,  "  that's  all  right  as  a  rule, 
but  if  you  haven't  got  anything  to  do  Monday 
night,  why  don't  you  come?  You'll  be  ten 
dollars  ahead."  Still  I  declined.  "  Well,"  he 
argued,  "  if  you  don't  come,  like  as  not  you'll 
go  to  the  theatre  and  take  a  lady  with  you,  and 
spend  five  or  ten  dollars,  and  you'll  miss  the 
ten  dollars  you  might  have  got  from  me  ;  then 
you'll  be  fifteen  or  twenty  dollars  out.  Now, 
I  don't  care  about  a  few  dollars  ;  I'll  make  it 
twenty."  "No,"  said  I,  "I  can't  cut  rates,  it 
won't  be  fair  to  other  fellows  in  the  business, 
I  won't  go  for  less  than  fifty."  "  Well,"  said  he, 
"  I  guess  I  can  fix  it  in  some  way  ;  tell  you 
what  I'll  do  ;  I  wont  give  the  company  any 
thing  to  drink ;  that  will  leave  me  five  dollars 
ahead  ;  I'll  make  it  twenty-five  for  you."  "No," 
said  I,  "  my  price  is  fifty;  I  must  stick  to  it." 
Finally  he  said  :  "  Well,  tell  you  how  I'll  fix  it. 
I  wont  give  the  company  anything  to  eat ;  so 
I  can  afford  to  give  you  the  fifty  dollars." 
The  engagement  consequently  was  closed.  Af 
ter  the  entertainment  was  over,  the  host  took 
me  aside,  and  handed  me  forty  dollars.  "  See 
here,"  said  I,  "  I've  kept  my  part  of  the  agree 
ment ;  why  don't  you  keep  yours?  My  terms 


236  The  People  I've  Smiled  With : 

were  fifty  dollars."  Then  he  handed  me  a  ten- 
dollar  bill,  and  said  :  "  Oh,  pshaw  !  Can't  you 
take  a  joke  ?  " 

I  met  another  Hebrew,  a  first-rate  fellow  too, 
at  the  Narragansett  Hotel  in  Providence  once. 
He  happened  to  know  my  friend,  J.  M.  Hill, 
the  theatrical  manager,  who  was  in  town  at  that 
time,  and  he  asked  Hill,  "  Isn't  that  Wild 
er?"  "Yes,"  said  Mr.  Hill,  introducing  us. 
"  Mr.  Wilder,"  said  he,  "  I  want  to  hear  you. 
I've  been  trying  for  a  long  time  ;  I'm  going  to 
do  it  the  first  opportunity."  "  Well,"  said  Hill, 
"Mr.  Wilder's  going  to  read  here  to-night." 
"  What  !  right  here  in  Providence?  I'll  go  to 
hear  him  ;  I  don't  care  what  it  costs.  Where's 
he  going  to  read?"  "At  the  Young  Men's 
Christian  Association,"  replied  Mr.  Hill. 
"Oh,"  said  the  fellow,  "they  wont  let  me  in 
there,  I'm  a  Hebrew."  Mr.  Hill  laid  his  left 
hand  on  the  fellow's  shoulder,  shook  the  fore 
finger  of  his  right  hand  impressively,  and  said, 
with  the  most  solemn  expression  in  the  world  : 
"  My  friend,  there  isn't  any  creed  about 
money." 

At  another  place  I  had  posted  my  lithograph 
"  ads."  all  around  town,  and  on  each  of  them 
were  copies  of  photographs  of  my  face,  in  dif 
ferent  characters  and  in  different  parts  of  my 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.        237 

entertainments.  I  am  rather  proud  of  these 
pictures,  for  I  make  it  a  point  never  to  put  on 
the  same  face  twice  in  succession  in  an  evening. 
A  countryman  came  up  to  me  and  said,  "Are 
you  the  show?"  "Yes,"  said  I.  "  Be  them 
your  pictures  there  ?  "  I  said  yes.  "  Well,  when 
are  you  going  to  make  your  parade?"  He 
had  seen  all  the  faces,  and  he  thought  that  they 
meant  as  many  different  men.  He  didn't  mean 
to  compliment  me,  I  suppose,  but  I  took  it  as 
such,  and  went  off  patting  myself  on  the  back. 
I  meet  a  great  many  good  men  as  well  as 
odd  ones  in  my  trips  about  the  country,  and 
one  of  them  is  Mr.  Clarkson,  the  great  Philadel 
phia  clothier,  who  employs  thousands  of  peo 
ple,  and  each  month  gives  them  an  entertain 
ment,  for  which  purpose  he  hires  the  Academy 
of  Music.  The  artists  whom  he  engages  are 
not  those  who  can  be  picked  up  for  little 
money,  but  the  very  best  singers,  lecturers,  and 
other  performers  that  can  be  found,  the  enter 
tainment  being  free  to  all  his  employees.  In  the 
summer  time  he  gives  them  excursions.  I  said 
to  him  once,  "  Mr.  Clarkson,  this  sort  of  thing 
must  cost  you  a  great  deal  of  money."  "  Yes," 
said  he,  "  it  does,  but  it  all  comes  back  to  me, 
though  I  never  expected  it  when  I  began.  My 
employees  are  an  appreciative  lot  of  people, 


238  The  People  I've  Smiled  With  : 

and  I  believe  they  pay  a  great  deal  more  atten 
tion  to  my  business  from  finding  me  interested 
in  them." 

Another  man  of  the  same  kind  is  Mr.  Stet 
son,  proprietor  of  a  great  hat  factory  in  Phil 
adelphia.  A  peculiar  feature  of  the  little 
orchestra  which  he  maintains  is  that  all  the 
performers  are  blind.  I  have  heard  a  great 
many  orchestras,  but  I  must  say  those  fellows 
put  more  soul  into  their  music  than  I  ever 
heard  from  any  others.  A  touching  incident 
occurred  there  one  night  when  I  chanced  to  be 
the  entertainer.  I  was  reciting  a  sketch  called 
"  The  Surgeon's  Story,"  at  which  a  fire  is 
spoken  of,  and  I  suppose  I  must  have  done  it 
pretty  well,  for  the  audience  was  thoroughly 
worked  up.  One  of  the  lines  read: 

"  The  corporal's  quarters  is  all  on  fire." 
At  that  moment,  it  being  the  time  of  the  Cen 
tennial  celebration,  a  number  of  fireworks  in  an 
adjoining  street  were  let  off,  and  the  inevitable 
lunatic  who  is  to  be  found  in  every  audience 
got  up  and  shouted  "  Fire  !  "  There  was  a 
general  stampede.  I  turned  to  the  blind  or 
chestra,  and  said  :  "  Be  entirely  quiet ;  there  is 
no  need  for  alarm  ;  there  is  no  fire  here."  The 
instant  I  spoke  the  poor  fellows  began  playing 
to  keep  the  audience  quiet,  and  succeeded.  I 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.       2 39 

never  before  or  since  took  such  satisfaction  in 
any  one's  accepting  my  word  for  exactly  what 
it  was  worth. 

I  have  had  a  great  deal  of  fun  out  of  the  cab 
men  of  London,  Dublin,  and  other  European 
towns.  Cab-fares  are  small  over  there.  A  fellow 
who  has  to  kill  time  can  do  it  a  great  deal 
cheaper  riding  around  in  a  cab  than  by  loung 
ing  in  a  bar-room  and  drinking  with  his  friends. 
One  day  when  I  happened  to  have  got  a  great 
deal  of  copper  in  change,  I  made  up  my  mind 
to  relieve  myself  of  extra  weight  by  paying  the 
cabby  in  pennies.  His  fare  was  eighteen 
pence;  so,  taking  a  handful  of  copper  from  my 
pocket,  I  counted  it  over  very  carefully,  begin 
ning,  "  One,  two,  three,"  etc.,  aloud.  As  I 
looked  up  the  cabby  was  regarding  me  with  a 
mixture  of  pity  and  contempt,  and  as  I  handed 
him  his  fare  he  said  between  his  teeth : 
"  You've  been  savin'  up  a  long  time,  haven't  you, 
sonny  ?  "  Another  time,  after  riding  around  in 
a  cab  on  a  rainy  day,  I  said  to  the  cabman  on 
dismounting  at  my  hotel,  "  Mike,  are  you 
wet?"  "Well,  sor,"  he  replied,  "if  I  was  as 
wet  outside  as  I  am  inside,  I'd  be  as  dry  as  a 
bone."  I'm  a  temperance  man  myself,  but  that 
fellow  didn't  remain  dry  a  minute  longer. 

One  of  the  most  amusing  and  at  the  same 


240  The  People  I've  Smiled  With: 

time  most  dreadful  times  that  I  ever  had  in  the 
business  was  when  I  went  up  to  New  England 
to  a  musical  convention  of  whjch  the  noted 
Carl  Zerrahn  of  Boston  was  the  leader.  What 
he  doesn't  know  about  music  would  be  hard  for 
any  one  else  to  find  out ;  but  he  didn't  know 
anything  about  me,  and  the  more  he  inquired 
the  more  he  was  bothered  to  know  what  to  do 
with  me  in  the  entertainment.  I  had  been  en 
gaged  by  the  management,  and  would  have  to 
be  paid,  so  I  ought  to  appear ;  but  whenever 
my  name  was  upon  the  programme,  and  I  went 
on  the  stage,  all  the  good  temper  was  taken 
out  of  Mr.  Zerrahn  for  at  least  half  an  hour, 
and  he  would  mutter  to  some  of  the  musicians 
about  him :  "  Dis  will  never  do ;  dis  man 
breaks  de  programme  all  up."  Finally  he 
came  to  me  and  said :  "  Mr.  Vilder,  vhen  you 
come  up  here  again  and  go  on  de  programme, 
vill  you  please  tell  me  vhat  you  vant  to  do, 
and  den  do  it  all  at  vonce  ?  I'll  vait,  no  matter 
how  long  it  is."  I  told  him  that  I'd  been  sent 
there  to  make  people  laugh,  and  I  was  obliged 
to  do  it,  but  I  was  sorry  for  him.  It  reminded 
me  of  the  days  when  I  was  at  school,  and  the 
children  didn't  like  to  appear  after  me  on  ex 
hibition-day,  because  I'd  make  them  laugh  and 
break  them  all  up.  They  used  to  complain  to 


Jiecotlections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.        241 

the  teacher  that  "  Marshall  Wilder  was  making 
faces." 

I  am  a  good-natured  man,  and  purpose  to 
be  cheerful  on  all  occasions,  but  once  in  a 
while  I  meet  some  one  whom  I  have  to  sit 
down  upon.  I  am  not  very  heavy,  but  all  the 
weight  there  is  to  me  I  try  to  drop  on  a  single 
spot.  Once,  in  the  Catskills,  where  I  was  to 
give  an  entertainment,  I  saw  an  old  gentleman 
with  four  charming  daughters  seated  about  him. 
As  I  passed  them,  he  chanced  to  pick  up  one 
of  my  programmes,  and  he  said:  "Oh,  is  that 
homely  little  fellow  to  give  an  entertainment 
here  to-night  ? "  (I  am  perfectly  willing  to 
admit  that  I  am  not  quite  as  handsome  as  Bill 
Nye.)  One  of  the  girls  replied.  "Yes,  he's 
going  to  recite  'Asleep  at  the  Switch/  among 
other  things."  "  Well,"  said  he,  loud  enough 
for  me  to  hear,  and  apparently  for  the  purpose 
of  my  hearing  it,  "  I  wont  go  to  hear  him  ;  if 
I  have  heard  that  once  I've  heard  it  a  hun 
dred  times."  I  went  right  up  to  him  and 
said:  "What's  that  you  say  about  'Asleep  at 
the  Switch?'"  "Who  are  you?"  he  asked. 
"  My  name  is  Marshall  P.  Wilder,"  said  I, 
"and  I  heard  your  remark  about  my  pro 
gramme.  I  don't  care  whether  you  come  to 
hear  me  at  all.  You're  a  bear.  Suppose  you 


«42          The  People  I*ve  Smiled  With : 

have  heard  '  Asleep  at  the  Switch '  a  hun 
dred  times.  Haven't  you  heard  the  Lord's 
Prayer  a  hundred  times  as  often  ?  And  if 
you  have,  do  you  object  to  hearing  that 
again?  There  is  a  good  deal  in  the  way  that 
a  thing  is  done.  I  claim  to  recite  'Asleep 
at  the  Switch  '  well,  but  I  don't  want  you  to 
come  and  hear  me.  I  don't  want  to  see  your 
face  in  the  house  to-night ;  it  will  make  me 
ill,  I  can't  stand  it." 

Well,  as  I  went  in  that  night  there  in  one  of 
the  front  seats  sat  that  very  man.  I  gave  him 
a  look  as  much  as  say,  "  I  thought  I  told 
you  to  keep  away  from  here  ?  "  The  audience, 
many  of  whom  had  heard  the  conversation  of 
the  afternoon,  seemed  to  translate  my  face  at 
once,  and  there  was  a  general  titter  all  over 
the  house.  Whether  they  were  laughing  at 
me  or  at  him  I  don't  know,  but  I  made  up  my 
mind  to  find  out,  so  I  gave  my  whole  enter 
tainment  to  that  one  old  individual.  I  devoted 
myself  entirely  to  him.  It  annoyed  him,  and 
soon  he  took  a  pencil  from  his  pocket  and 
tried  to  write  something  to  divert  his  mind. 
When  I  recited  "  Over  the  Hill  to  the  Poor- 
house  ; "  tears  began  to  roll  down  the  old 
man's  face.  I  had  got  him.  When  the  per 
formance  was  over,  he  came  up  to  me  and  put 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.      243 

two  ten-dollar  bills  into  my  hand  and  said, 
"  My  boy,  you  have  taught  me  a  lesson  that  I 
never  shall  forget."  This  old  man  is  now  one 
of  my  best  friends,  and  I  go  to  see  him  fre 
quently,  and  his  daughters  are  like  sisters 
to  me. 

Occasionally  I  go  to  places  where  it  is  the 
custom  for  some,  private  family  to  take  charge 
of  the  entertainer,  there  being  no  good  hotel 
near  by.  Generally  I  am  capitally  entertained. 
1  usually  know,  as  soon  as  I  enter  the  house, 
the  character  of  the  entire  family.  There  are 
two  sure  indications:  one  is  the  manner  of  the 
servants,  and  the  other  is  the  manner  of  the 
children.  It  does  not  take  long  to  get  ac 
quainted  with  a  child,  and  as  soon  as  you  have 
done  it  you  know  the  parents;  in  fact,  you 
know  the  ancestors  back  for  two  or  three 
generations.  It  is  a.  good  deal  the  same  way 
with  the  servants.  When  a  lady  tells  me  that 
she  has  simply  a  dreadful  time  with  her  ser 
vants,  I  have  made  up  my  mind  that  some  one 
who  is  within  speaking  distance  of  me  does 
not  know  how  to  manage  her  house,  and  the 
chances  are  about  one  hundred  to  one  that  I 
am  entirely  correct  about  it. 

Occasionally  I  have  stepped  out  of  my 
regular  line  and  given  a  voluntary  entertain- 


244  The  People  I've  Smiled  With. 

ment  of  a  sort  which  never  fails  to  astonish 
people,  although  I  never  pretended  that 
there  was  any  mystery  about  it.  It  is  in  the 
line  of  mind-reading,  about  which  the  public 
have  listened  to  a  great  deal  of  nonsense. 
Mind-reading  is  nothing  but  muscle-reading. 
A  person  who  will  concentrate  his  attention 
upon  one  subject,  and  who  is  at  all  sensitive, 
can  generally  succeed  in  rinding  what  other 
people  are  thinking  of.  I  have  succeeded  in 
performing  just  such  feats  as  have  made  Mr. 
Bishop  and  Mr.  Cumberland  famous ;  our 
methods  may  differ,  but  there  is  a  great  deal 
of  trick  about  it.  If  I  take  you  by  the  hand 
and  lead  you  about  the  room  and  concentrate 
my  attention  upon  your  hand,  you  will  lead  me 
unconsciously  just  where  you  don't  want  to  go, 
and  the  harder  you  try  to  keep  me  away  from 
the  article  the  easier  it  is  for  me  to  find  it,  for 
the  muscular  movements  of  your  hand  give 
me  the  cue.  The  same  thing  can  be  done 
with  an  article  passed  from  hand  to  hand  be 
tween  five  or  six  people,  the  last  one  retain 
ing  it. 

Here  is  a  specimen  case  which  occurred  at 
the  Hoffman  House  in  New  York.  A  diamond 
brooch  belonging  to  Mrs.  Frank  Leslie,  who 
was  one  of  the  party,  was  to  be  taken  by  a 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.        24S 

gentlemen  who  would  drive  off  with  it  behind 
a  team  of  horses  and  hide  it  within  a  mile  of 
the  hotel.  A  committee  was  appointed  to 
supervise  the  performance.  The  men  who 
were  to  hide  the  article  were  selected  by  the 
operator  himself,  and  he  was  careful  to  select 
nervous,  sympathetic  people.  The  carriage 
drove  through  Broadway  to  Twenty-first 
Street,  over  to  Fourth  Avenue,  and  then  to 
Gramercy  Park,  where  it  stopped.  The  party 
went  into  the  Gramercy  Building,  entered  a 
room,  hid  the  article  there,  and  returned,  the 
committee  being  with  him.  The  operator  was 
then  blindfolded,  and  to  make  assurance 
double  sure  a  black  cap  was  placed  over  his 
eyes.  The  operator  took  the  hand  of  the 
man  who  hid  the  article  and  traced  different 
routes  on  a  map  before  him  until  he  struck 
the  right  one.  After  he  had  made  up  his 
mind  where  the  article  was  hidden,  he  got  into 
a  carriage,  accompanied  by  the  committee, 
drove  to  the  house,  entered  it,  took  the  hand 
of  one  of  the  committee,  and  easily  found  the 
article.  I  have  succeeded  in  doing  similar 
tricks  many  times,  all  through  muscle-read 
ing — not  mind-reading. 


CHAPTER   XXIV. 

AN  OCEAN  TRIP. — A  GLORIOUS  BRACER. — SOME  PEOPLE 
WHOM  You  DON'T  MEET. — CREDITORS. — PEOPLE  You 
ARE  SURE  TO  SEE. — THE  DOCTOR. — FRED  DOUGLASS. — 
HONEYMOON  COUPLES. — GOSSIP. — THE  RESURRECTION  OF 
"  PLUG"  HATS. — CUSTOM-HOUSE  OFFICIALS. — THE  TRAV 
ELLING  DUDE. — WHEN  ELAINE  SMILED. 

WHEN  I  want  a  real  jolly  time  and  don't 
know  how  else  to  get  it,  I  generally  take  a  run 
across  the  ocean,  one  way  or  the  other.  A 
'great  many  people  dislike  the  idea  of  going  to 
sea,  but  during  May,  June,  July,  and  August 
the  trip  is  generally  pleasant.  Persons  who 
fear  the  torments  of  sea-sickness  can  generally 
have  their  minds  relieved  by  their  family  phy 
sicians,  and  if  not  sick  I  can't  imagine  any 
place  where  they'll  get  more  rest  and  recrea 
tion  than  on  a  first-class  ocean  steamer.  All 
they  need  is  to  remain  on  deck  as  much  as 
possible,  look  about  them,  make  no  special 
effort  to  obtain  new  acquaintances,  and  make 
a  little  effort  to  avoid  having  new  acquaint 
ances  pushed  upon  them  ;  soon  they  will  feel 
all  right. 

246 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.        247 

The  sweetest  rest  in  the  world  is  to  be  found 
on  the  ocean.  While  there  you  can't  receive 
any  letters  or  telegraphic  dispatches  or  news 
papers,  and  if  you  are  anxious  about  any  of 
them  you  may  feel  entirely  sure  that  you  will 
get  them  all  as  soon  as  you  reach  port.  Simply 
to  eat  and  drink  and  sleep  and  breathe  pure 
air — and,  on  occasion,  even  a  little  fog- 
will  rejuvenate  a  tired-out  person  sooner  than 
anything  else  I  know  of.  I  ought  to  know 
what  I'm  talking  about,  for  I  have  tried  it  a 
number  of  times,  and  always  found  the  experi 
ment  successful. 

Of  course  you  meet  all  sorts  of  people  on 
shipboard ;  besides  the  ordinary  run  of  tourists, 
there  are  men  running  away  from  their  wives, 
and  wives  running  away  from  their  husbands, 
and  people  of  both  sexes  trying  to  get  away 
from  the  police ;  but  it  isn't  necessary  to  asso 
ciate  with  any  of  these.  Besides,  there  are  a 
great  many  people  who  are  getting  away  from 
their  creditors. 

I  have  a  great  deal  of  respect  for  a  creditor, 
perhaps  because  I  dont't  owe  anything  to  any 
body  now,  but  there  have  been  times  when,  to 
preserve  my  reputation  for  truthfulness,  I  have 
had  to  keep  out  of  the  way  of  collectors.  I 
didn't  dare  tell  them  the  truth,  and  I  didn't 


The  People  I've  Smiled  With: 

want  to  lie  to  them,  so  there  was  nothing  else 
to  do  but  keep  out  of  the  way.  Creditors  are 
entirely  respectable  individuals.  They  have 
been  shamefully  abused  in  literature.  They 
want  only  what  is  due  them,  and  if  the 
rest  of  us  are  like  them  in  this  respect  we  are 
a  great  deal  better  than  any  one  has  given  us 
credit  for.  One  day  during  a  remote  impecu 
nious  period  I  said  to  a  persistent  collector, 
"  Do  you  suppose  a  man's  creditors  will  ever 
get  to  Heaven?"  "  They  ought  to,"  he  re 
plied,  curtly,  "  they  have  to  suffer  more  than 
any  on&  else  on  earth."  This  remark  affected 
me  so  seriously  that  within  forty-eight  hours  I 
went  out  and  borrowed  the  amount  and  paid 
him.  The  late  Dr.  George  M.  Beard,  a  very 
clever  fellow,  once  reasoned  this  subject  out  as 
follows  :  "  I  look  at  it  from  the  basis  of  applied 
mathematics.  Will  there  be  room  in  heaven 
for  all  the  creditors  ?  There  are  in  this  world 
about  a  billion  and  a  quarter  human  beings. 
To  each  one  of  these,  according  to  my  expe 
rience,  there  are  about  twenty  collectors — minis 
tering  angels  of  finance — a  crowd  of  wit 
nesses  by  whom  we  are  surrounded.  Surely 
the  bounds  of  heaven  cannot  contain  so  many." 
"  Besides,"  continued  the  Doctor,  "  the  man 
who  is  hard  up  financially  is  not  a  free  moral 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.         249 

agent.  Next  to  marriage,  debt  is  the  closest  of 
all  connections.  It  has  been  said  by  those  who 
regard  themselves  wise  that  you  must  winter 
and  summer  with  a  man  before  you  can  know 
him  ;  but  I  recommend  a  shorter  and  surer  road 
to  acquaintanceship, — get  into  debt  to  a  man, 
or  allow  him  to  fall  in  debt  to  you.  No  man 
can  be  said  to  know  another  until  he  has  been 
either  his  debtor  or  creditor.  In  other  human 
relations  it  is  different.  Marriages  are  some 
times  followed  by  separations  and  divorces, 
and  more  often  by  infidelity,  but  my  creditors 
or  their  representatives  never  run  away.  They 
are  always  faithful  to  me.  I  was  looking  a 
few  days  ago  at  a  picture  of  Washington  Ir 
ving  and  his  friends.  If  the  picture  of  any  one 
of  a  hundred  men  I  know  and  his  creditors 
could  be  painted,  no  canvas  that  ever  was  put 
on  a  frame  would  contain  all  the  figures.  It 
would  be  a  tell-tale  picture,  though — some  of 
the  creditors  or  collectors  sitting  in  a  corner, 
others  standing  in  front,  a  few  lying  on 
lounges,  and  quite  a  number  lying  in  wait 
outside  the  front  door. 

"  And  yet,"  the  Doctor  went  on,  "  there 
are  some  very  good  points  about  creditors. 
Man  is  a  believing  animal.  Tell  him  some 
thing,  and  the  odds  are  about  ten  to  one  that 


250  The  People  I've  Smiled  With  : 

he  will  accept  your  statement.  Why  does  a 
man  promise  to  pay  ?  Because  he  wants  to 
pay  and  his  creditors  want  him  to.  To  a  cred 
itor,  promises  are  what  drinks  are  to  inebriates ; 
the  more  they  have  the  more  they  want. 
Promises  to  creditors,  like  relays  in  the  tele 
graph,  take  up  messages  and  convey  them  to  a 
distance.  If  they  would  only  convey  the 
debtor  also,  a  great  deal  of  trouble  would  be 
spared  this  world,  and  a  great  deal  of  lying 
would  be  prevented." 

No  one  can  cross  the  ocean  on  one  of  the 
popular  steamers  without  making  new  ac 
quaintances  whom  he  never  afterward  loses, 
and  whom,  after  he  gets  them,  it  seems  he 
never  could  have  lived  without.  Travel,  like 
poverty,  makes  strange  companions.  On  ship 
board  I  have  met  many  men  whom  I  never 
would  have  noticed  on  shore,  and  I'm  sure 
they  never  would  have  noticed  me,  yet  we 
have  been  good  friends  ever  since.  To  men 
tion  names  would  be  to  introduce  a  number  of 
people  in  whom  perhaps  the  reader  could  not 
be  expected  to  take  any  interest,  but  I  want 
to  say  a  word  or  two  about  one  historic  char 
acter  whom  I  once  met  on  a  voyage.  He  was 
Fred  Douglass — an  American  citizen  of  Afri 
can  extraction,  who  was  born  and  reared  a 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.        ^S1 

slave,  but  has  made  himself  one  of  the  no- 
blest  of  freemen.  When  he  first  appeared  upon 
deck,  a  number  of  his  fellow-passengers  de 
cided  to  cut  him.  They  didn't  want  to  asso 
ciate  with  a  colored  man.  The  old  man — for 
he  is  old  now — said  nothing  about  it.  I  sup 
pose  he  was  used  to  that  sort  of  thing.  After 
we  were  two  days  out  I  was  so  indignant  at 
the  discourtesy  shown  toward  a  man  whom  I 
knew  to  be  intelligent  and  honorable,  that  I 
approached  him,  introduced  myself,  and  began 
chatting  with  him.  After  we  had  talked  a 
little  while  we  grew  well  enough  acquainted 
to  call  each  other  by  first  names.  There  were 
a  few  moments  of  silence  while  Douglass 
looked  off  in  a  dreamy  way  over  the  expanse 
of  water.  Finally  he  said  :  "  Marshall,  do  you 
see  the  difference  in  the  altitude  of  those 
waves  ?  Doesn't  it  remind  you  of  the  dif 
ference  in  men  ?  Some  are  very  high  and 
some  very  low,  but  taking  them  altogether 
they  go  to  make  up  the  whole."  Other  people 
were  standing  within  listening  distance  as  we 
talked.  It  was  not  long  before  a  number  of 
men  made  themselves  acquainted  with  Mr. 
Douglass,  and  before  the  voyage  was  over  he 
had  won  the  heart  of  all  persons  aboard  ship. 
Not  quite  all,  either,  for  on  one  occasion,  when 


252  The  People  I've  Smiled  With: 

he  was  asked  to  take  charge  of  an  entertain 
ment  in  the  cabin,  which  he  did  with  admir 
able  tact,  talent,  and  courtesy,  there  was  one 
Southerner  present  who  announced  that  he 
would  have  nothing  whatever  to  do  with  it 
if  it  was  to  be  managed  by  a  colored  man. 

You  will  see  any  amount  of  fun  on  a  steamer 
crossing  the  ocean  if  you  keep  your  eyes  open. 
For  instance,  a  fellow  comes  up  to  me,  recog 
nizes  me,  and  says  :  "  Hallo,  Wilder,  you  going 
to  Europe  ?  So  am  I.  We  will  have  lots  of 
fun  going  over ;  we'll  have  seven  days  on  ship 
board.  I  have  some  friends  I  want  to  bid 
good-by  to  on  the  dock,  and  I'll  see  you 
again."  The  chances  are  I  won't  see  him  till 
seven  days  afterward,  and  then  he  will  come 
up  from  his  stateroom  looking  as  if  he  had 
spent  the  entire  time  in  taking  emetics,  starv 
ing  himself,  and  being  rubbed  down  to  get  rid 
of  superfluous  flesh. 

On  shipboard  there  are  two  things  about 
which  you  are  sure  to  hear  a  great  deal;  one  is 
sea-sickness  and  the  other  is  gossip.  If  you 
are  rightly  constructed  you  will  let  the  gossip 
go  in  one  ear  and  out  of  the  other,  and  I  don't 
know  of  any  better  way  to  treat  stories  about 
sea-sickness. 

I  don't  know  which  is  the  bigger  man  aboard 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.        253 

ship,  the  Captain  or  the  Doctor.  The  Captain 
is  almost  sure  to  be  a  man  who,  if  not  other 
wise  engaged,  would  make  a  good  President  of 
the  United  States  or  King  of  England,  but  he 
is  likely  to  be  pretty  busy  all  the  way  over. 
The  Doctor  has  some  leisure  on  his  hands,  and 
as  a  rule  he  is  charged  with  the  formal  enter 
tainments  that  may  be  given.  He  is  a  great 
fellow  to  go  around  and  cheer  people  up. 
Cheer  counts  for  more  than  medicine  when 
people  are  feeling  squeamish.  He  is  as  hos 
pitable  and  hearty  as  if  he  owned  the  whole 
ship.  He  isn't  like  the  old  lady  I  heard  of 
who  asked  some  people  to  come  and  see  her,  to 
come  early,  bring  their  things  for  lunch,  and  she 
would  see  that  they  got  home  before  tea- 
time.  Neither  does  he  keep  people's  minds 
on  sea-sickness,  or  whatever  subject  is  worry 
ing  them  most.  If  there  are  some  on  board 
who  are  suffering  from  incurable  diseases,  he 
takes  pains  not  to  talk  about  it,  although  his 
professional  advice  is  always  at  their  service. 

Some  people  ashore  aren't  that  way.  I 
know  a  good-hearted  old  lady  who  had  a 
friend  with  heart  disease,  and  upon  whom 
she  precipitated  herself  one  afternoon  with 
the  following  speech  :  "  Mary,  I  thought  I'd 
just  run  down  and  cheer  you  up  a  little  this 


254  The  People  I've  Smiled  With  : 

afternoon.  I  just  came  up  the  road  and  I  saw 
your  husband  shot  out  there,  but  don't  you 
mind  it ;  you  can  find  a  better  one  after  a 
while.  Don't  look  so  white  about  it.  I  once 
knew  a  woman  who  looked  as  white  as  you, 
and  she  didn't  live  more  than  five  minutes. 
Well,  if  he  happens  to  be  dead  when  he's 
brought  in,  don't  hesitate  to  send  for  me ; 
I'm  dreadful  good  at  funerals." 

Of  course  the  Doctor  has  to  listen  to  a  great 
deal  of  nonsense.  I  heard  one  lady  say  to  him, 
"  Oh,  Doctor,  I  had  a  most  terrible  loss  last 
night."  "  Indeed,"  said  he,  sympathetically, 
"  what  did  you  lose  ?  "  "  Why,  I  lost  my  tooth 
brush."  Another  said  :  "  Doctor,  isn't  that 
moon  beautiful  ?  Do  you  suppose  it  is  the 
same  moon  they  have  in  Jersey  City  ?  " 

On  board  ship  you  are  almost  certain  to  meet 
at  least  one  bridal  couple  who  are  crossing  the 
ocean  on  their  honeymoon  trip.  I  haven't  been 
married  yet,  but  when  I  am  I  shant  take  an 
ocean  trip  for  the  purpose  of  getting  fairly  ac 
quainted  with  my  wife.  I  don't  know  of  a 
worse  place  in  which  to  spend  a  honeymoon. 
A  cheap  and  crowded  New  York  boarding- 
house  would  be  heaven  compared  to  it.  There 
is  an  expression  on  the  bride's  face,  a  perma 
nent  expression,  which  seems  to  say  to  the 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.        255 

groom,  "  Oh,  I  wish  I  had  never  seen  you  !  " 
and  the  bridegroom  looks  as  if  he  would  say, 
"  I  wish  to  heaven  you  would  take  your  things 
out  of  my  trunk  and  go  home  to  your  mother 
and  leave  me  to  myself." 

A  great  deal  of  courage  is  displayed  in  efforts 
to  avoid  sea-sickness,  but  sometimes  they  come 
to  grief.  You  meet  a  fellow-passenger  and 
say,  "How  are  you  to-day,  Brown  ?"  "Oh, 
I'm  first  rate."  "  Been  ill  yet  ?  "  "  No,  not  at 
all."  "  Did  you  notice  last  night  how  the  ship 
rose  and  fell  on  the  waves?"  Then  Brown 
puts  his  hand  about  where  the  waist-band 
of  his  trousers  meets,  and  gasps,  "  Oh,  don't 
say  that,  please ;  don't  say  that ;  it  breaks  me 
all  up." 

Not  being  accustomed  to  ocean  travel,  some 
sensible  people  on  ship-board  say  very  odd 
things,  and  some  others  are  foolish  enough  to 
take  the  remarks  in  earnest.  One  day  -an  old 
lady  at  dinner-table,  while  the  ship  was  pitch 
ing  frightfully,  spilled  some  coffee  on  my  coat, 
and  exclaimed  at  once :  "  I  beg  your  pardon, 
I'm  sorry  I  spilled  anything  on  your  coat ;  I'm 
willing  to  pay  if  I  spoiled  it  ;  how  much  ought 
I  to  pay  ?  "  I  thought  the  best  thing  to  do  was 
to  relieve  her  mind  on  the  subject  at  once,  so 
I  replied  :  "  Well,  I  don't  really  know ;  how 


256  The  People  I've  Smiled  With: 

much  do  you  usually  pay  in  such  cases  ?  "  Then 
she  laughed,  and  that  settled  the  matter. 

The  day  you  reach  Liverpool  it  is  odd  to  see 
all  the  men  come  up  on  deck  with  new  hats 
on  ;  you  don't  know  them.  At  sea  a  fellow 
learns  to  wear  anything  on  his  head  that  will 
stick  there  tightest ;  consequently  he  seldom 
wears  a  "  stovepipe  "  hat ;  so  when  he  appears 
with  such  a  decoration  just  as  he  is  going  into 
port,  the  chances  are  that  if  he  is  your  bosom 
friend  you  don't  know  him  at  sight. 

I  must  record  the  fact — and  leave  my  read 
ers  to  make  their  own  inferences — that  Custom 
House  officers  on  the  English  side  are  far  more 
courteous  and  considerate  than  those  of  this 
country,  and  their  system  is  much  better  than 
ours,  where  you  have  to  open  your  trunks  on  a 
dock,  perhaps  where  a  lot  of  guano  is  stored  or 
a  lot  of  caustic  potash  is  sprinkled  around,  and 
stand  in  a  draft  and  expose  yourself  to  all  sorts 
of  weather.  The  English  customs  officers  are 
fussy  only  over  two  things.  One  is  printed 
matter — for  instance  a  book  or  a  printed  song, 
and  the  other  is  liquor.  One  of  them  said  to 
a  fellow-passenger  of  mine  :  "  Have  you  any 
thing  to  drink  in  your  trunk  ?  "  My  friend 
said  :  "  No,  I've  nothing  in  that  trunk  except 
wearing  apparel."  But  when  the  trunk  was 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little   Life.       257 

opened  the  officer  looked  up  reproachfully  and 
said  :  "  You  said  you  hadn't  anything  in  the 
trunk  except  your  clothing.  How  do  you  ac 
count  for  this  dozen  bottles  of  brandy  ? " 
"  Oh,"  said  my  friend,  "  that's  all  right  ;  those 
are  night-caps."  The  officer  saw  the  point. 

There  are  always  some  dudes  on  a  steamer, 
no  matter  which  way  it  is  going,  and  I'm  glad 
of  it,  because  they  always  make  a  great  deal  of 
fun  for  other  people.  I  heard  of  one  who  on 
a  voyage  over  was  reproved  by  his  wife  for  not 
restraining  the  children  more  carefully  from 
being  nuisances  to  the  passengers.  One  day 
the  children  were  making  themselves  unusually 
offensive,  and  she  exclaimed  :  "  Charley,  do 
speak  to  the  children."  Her  husband  straight 
ened  himself  up,  put  on  a  helpless  sort  of  man 
ner,  and  then  said,  "  How  do  you  do,  chil 
dren?" 

I  noticed  in  England  a  great  number  of 
American  dudes.  Going  through  a  parlor  there 
one  day  I  met  one  fellow,  who  said  to  me,  "  Ah, 
when  did  you  come  from  America  ?  "  I  replied, 
"  Oh,  about  a  month  ago.  Are  you  from 
America  ?  "  "  Yes,"  he  said,  "  I  am  from  Phila 
delphia."  "  How  do  you  like  London  ?  "  I 
asked.  "  Oh,"  he  said,  "  I  like  it  very  much. 
I  would  prefer  to  live  here."  "  How  do  you 


258  The  People  I've  Smiled  With. 

like  London  society  ?  "  "  Very  well ;  but — one 
meets  so  many  Americans  here,  don't  you 
know." 

On  one  of  my  recent  passages  from  England 
to  America  I  succeeded  in  amusing  Mr.  Elaine. 
We  were  coming  up  New  York  Bay,  the  most 
beautiful  bay  on  the  face  of  the  earth,  and  the 
sunshine  was  simply  sparkling  about  us.  It  was 
real  American  sunshine,  and  it  struck  us  after 
three  solid  months  of  English  rain  and  Scotch 
mist.  Mr.  Elaine  turned  to  me  and  said  :  "  Ah, 
Marshall,  did  you  ever  see  such  sunshine  in  a 
free-trade  country  ?  "  "  No,"  said  I,  "  it's  an 
other  one  of  the  blessings  of  protection." 

Then  Elaine  smiled. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

MYSELF  ONCE  MORE. — ONE  USE  OF  AFFLICTION. — PICKING 
UP  MATERIAL.  —  DINING  CUSTOMS.  —  NOT  THE  RIGHT 
STORY. — Two  STAMMERERS. — I  LAUGH  AT  MY  JOKES. — 
SOMETIMES  THE  AUDIENCE  LAUGH  AT  THE  WRONG 
PLACE.— CRITICAL  AUDIENCES. — HARD^WORK. — GOOD-BY. 

ONCE  more  let  me  talk  about  myself.  This 
is  positively  my  last  appearance  in  this  book.1 
I  know  I  have  appeared  several  times  before, 
but  I've  done  it  only  for  the  purpose  of  an 
swering  questions  which  are  put  to  me  orally 
so  often  that  I  feel  I  ought  to  answer  them  in 
bulk  to  a  number  of  persons  who  yet  may  be 
desirous  of  propounding  them. 

As  I  said  at  the  beginning,  nature  originally 
was  unkind  to  me  in  some  ways,  but  I  can't 
say  that  I  regret  it.  My  dear  old  friend  Henry 
Ward  Beecher  used  to  preach  frequently  on 
the  blessings  of  affliction,  and  I  can  say  from 
personal  experience  that  a  man  has  to  be 
slightly  afflicted  to  know  how  much  kindness 
and  good-heartedness  there  is  in  this  world.  I 
have  hundreds  and  thousands,  I  think,  of 
friends,  whom  I  might  never  have  known  ex- 
259 


260  The  People  I've  Smiled  With: 

cept  for  some  peculiarities  which  old  Dame 
Nature  inflicted  upon  me.  Probably  she  knew 
her  business  best,  but  at  any  rate,  like  the  lit 
tle  fellow  with  no  feet  whom  I  have  already 
alluded  to,  "I'm  not  kicking." 

I  have  been  asked  again  and  again  how  I 
always  contrive  to  be  ready  to  speak  at  short 
notice,  and  whether  I  don't  prepare  myself  in 
advance  for  any  sort  of  emergency.  I  can  say 
truthfully  that  I  make  no  preparation  what 
ever.  When  I  go  upon  the  stage  or  platform 
I  seldom  know  what  I  am  going  to  say  or  do. 
I  don't  look  to  myself  for  inspiration,  but  to 
my  audience,  and  no  two  audiences  are  exactly 
alike. 

I  am  also  asked  frequently  where  I  get  the 
material  for  my  sketches  and  recitations. 
Well,  so  far  as  chestnuts  are  concerned,  I  have 
already  explained  sufficiently,  but  I  am  con 
stantly  giving  off  new  sketches,  and  using  new 
material.  Where  do  I  get  it  ?  Why,  anywhere 
and  everywhere. ,  In  the  long  run  everything 
I  talk  about  is  human  nature, — only  that  and 
nothing  more, — and  that  can  be  seen  and  found 
anywhere,  and,  as  my  readers  often  have  heard, 
probably,  truth  is  stranger  than  fiction.  If  I 
were  going  to  recite  to-night,  and  were  assured 
that  nothing  I  had  ever  done  before  would  be 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.        2^i 

appreciated  by  the  audience  I  was  to  meet,  I 
shouldn't  be  at  all  troubled  in  mind.  I  would 
simply  walk  upon  a  horse-car,  or  into  a  club, 
or  stand  at  a  street-corner,  or  in  a  theater 
lobby,  and  in  a  little  while  would  have  enough 
good  material  for  half-a-dozen  recitations. 
Human  nature  is  what  people  like  to  hear 
about.  You  can't  please  any  one  better  than 
by  telling  him  well, — please  note  the  qualifica 
tion, — by  telling  him  well  about  something 
which  he  already  understands.  The  most 
popular  books  and  plays  and  poems  in  exis 
tence  are  not  those  which  contain  something 
new,  but  those  which  confine  themselves  to 
subjects  upon  which  every  one  thinks  he 
knows  everything. 

Some  of  my  most  successful  work  has  been 
in  the  line  of  after-dinner  speeches,  and  I  have 
been  asked  how  I  could  go  through  ten  or 
twelve  courses  of  food,  and  six  or  eight 
different  kinds  of  wine,  and  then  have  any  head 
on  my  shoulders.  Well,  the  answer  is  very 
easy — I  don't.  I  never  drink  wine  or  any  other 
liquor.  Stronger  men  than  I,  who  think  they 
need  such  things,  are  respectfully  referred  to 
my  stature  and  fighting  weight  in  illustration 
of  the  fact  that  if  a  man  doesn't  want  to  drink 
he  doesn't  need  to.  As  to  the  dining,  I  never 


262  The  People  I've  Smiled  With  : 

have  any  trouble  about  eating  enough  to  keep 
myself  alive,  and  if  I  am  going  to  any  place 
where  a  big  dinner  is  to  be  served,  I  take  the 
precaution  of  eating  first  a  quiet  dinner  some 
where  else;  then  I  am  certain  my  digestion 
will  not  be  upset.  I  don't  wish  to  give  away 
any  other  man's  business  secrets,  but  I  venture 
to  say  that  the  best  after-dinner  speakers  in  the 
United  States  are  the  most  moderate  diners. 
If  you  will  cast  your  eye  at  the  table  in  front 
of  some  man  at  a  big  dinner  who  gets  up  and 
makes  a  capital  speech,  you  will  probably  see 
one  of  two  things— either  that  all  his  glasses 
are  turned  upside  down  or  that  they  are  en 
tirely  full.  In  other  words,  he  has  been  drink 
ing  little  or  nothing.  One  of  the  most  famous 
givers  of  good  dinners  in  the  United  States 
never  eats  anything  himself  but  a  mutton  chop 
and  a  couple  of  slices  of  dry  toast.  He  drinks 
nothing  but  tea,  and  yet  his  health,  com 
plexion,  and  spirits  are  all  that  any  one  could 
desire.  I  don't  wish  to  imply  that  I  am  an 
ascetic.  I  take  my  three  meals  a  day,  and  I 
insist  that  they  shall  be  as  good  as  my  pocket 
can  stand,  but  I  don't  propose  to  upset  my  di 
gestion  for  the  sake  of  the  best  company  in  the 
world. 

When  it  falls  to  my  lot  to  make  a  speech  or 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life.        263 

tell  a  story,  I  assume  that  the  gathering  is  one 
of  good  fellows,  and  that  it  isn't  advisable  to 
hit  anybody  or  hurt  any  one's  feelings.  It  is 
often  possible  to  tell  a  good  story  with  a  very 
bad  result.  Every  one  has  his  peculiarity,  and 
it  isn't  easy  to  avoid  treading  upon  toes.  I  was 
at  a  church-sociable  one  night  in  which  an  old 
folks'  tableau  was  given.  Suddenly  the  director 
pointed  to  a  young  man  in  one  of  the  front 
seats,  and  asked  him  if  he  would  come  up  on 
the  platform.  He  responded  at  once.  She 
placed  him  in  an  attitude  of  extreme  joy, 
asked  him  to  smile  ecstatically,  and  then  said 
to  the  audience,  "  This  is  a  tableau  of  a  young 
man's  glee  on  receiving  the  news  that  his 
scolding  wife  has  just  died."  The  young  man 
suddenly  straightened  as  stiffly  as  a  fence-post. 
His  own  wife,  who  had  been  a  terrible  scold, 
had  been  buried  only  the  week  before. 

Such  mistakes  can't  be  helped  once  in  a 
while.  A  man  who  is  a  stammerer  was  riding 
on  an  elevated  railway  train  once,  and  the 
brakeman  put  his  head  in  the  door  as  the  train 
was  slowing  up,  and  said  :  "  The  next  station 
is  F-f-f-fourteenth  Street."  The  "man  stepped 
up  to  him  and  said  :  "  L-l-let  me  know  when 
you  get  to  F-f-f-forty-second  Street."  Then 
the  passenger  dropped  into  a  peaceful  doze. 


264  The  People  I've  Smiled  With: 

In  the  course  of  half  an  hour  the  brakeman 
shouted,  "  H-h-h-harlem  ;  all  out !  "  The  pas 
senger  went  up  to  him  and  said  angrily:  "  Didn't 
I  t-t-tell  you  to  1-1-let  me  know  when  you  got 
to  F-f-f-forty-second  Street  ?  "  "  Yes,"  said  the 
brakeman,  "  b-b-but  I  saw  you  were  making 
f-f-fun  of  me,  and  I  wouldn't  do  it." 

I  always  laugh  at  my  own  jokes.  I  believe 
I  have  said  this  before,  but  I  want  to  say  it 
again  for  this  sake  of  explaining.  I  don't  do  it 
for  the  sake  of  business,  but  because  I  can't 
help  it.  A  number  of  years  ago  I  determined 
to  be  good-natured  under  all  circumstances, 
and  enjoy  everything  humourous  I  heard,  and 
I  don't  find  myself  able  to  break  the  rule  now, 
even  when  the  funny  thing  happens  to  be  said 
by  myself.  It  does  me  a  lot  of  good  in  the 
way  of  business,  but  I  never  put  it  in  on  that 
account.  I  simply  can't  help  it.  If  ever  you 
come  to  hear  me  talk  and  see  me  begin  to  laugh, 
and  make  up  your  mind  that  you  wont  follow 
my  example,  why,  go  right  ahead  ;  I  shant  feel 
hurt,  I  shant  feel  sorry  the  least  bit — except 
for  you. 

Don't  imagine,  though,  that  I  always  laugh, 
for  once  in  a  while  I  don't.  There  are  times 
when  other  people  laugh  before  I,  and  some 
times  it  is  embarrassing.  One  night  I  was  giv- 


Recollections  of  a  Merry  Little  Life,        265 

ing  an  entertainment  at  Dr.  Talmage's  church, 
and  I  had  just  reached  the  line, 

"  And  the  old  man  sighed." 

when  something  in  the  big  organ  gave  way 
either  by  accident  or  design,  and  through  one 
of  the  pipes  came  a  sigh  such  as  might  have 
been  given  by  a  giant  who  had  been  lunching 
on  green  apples.  After  the  audience  got 
through  laughing  I  went  on,  but  the  poem 
wasn't  pathetic  any  longer,  although  the  author 
meant  it  to  be. 

Some  actors,  singers,  and  musicians  find 
themselves  terribly  broken  up  and  nervous 
when  the  management,  with  more  solicitude 
than  sense,  blunders  into  informing  them  that 
the  audience  is  very  critical;  that  sort  of  speech 
never  troubles  me  a  bit.  I  always  think  of  a 
man  who  was  said  not  to  have  any  spirits,  but 
who,  when  he  got  into  a  discussion  with  his 
wife,  would  frequently  reach  a  state  of  mind  in 
which  it  was  desirable  to  call  for  the  police. 
Some  one  once  called  his  attention  to  the  fact 
that,  as  a  rule,  he  was  a  most  mild-mannered 
person,  and  consequently  it  was  surprising 
to  see  him  give  way  to  such  an  ebullition  of 
temper.  "Well,"  he  replied,  "  that's  so;  but 
my  wife  nagged  me  up  to  it."  That  is  just  the 
way  a  critical  audience  affects  me,  and  if  there 


%&6  The  People  I W  Smiled  With  t 

is  any  stimulus   of  that  sort  going  about  I  can 
stand  all  of  it  that  any  one  can  give  me. 

To  the  numerous  people  that  seem  to  think 
I  have  nothing  to  do  in  this  world  but  enjoy 
myself,  I  want  to  say  that  I  work  for  my  living 
quite  as  hard  as  any  one  else.  Just  look  for  a 
moment,  by  way  of  comparison,  at  the  dif 
ference  between  the  single  individual  expected 
to  entertain  people,  and  a  company  of  dramatic 
artists  on  the  stage.  The  average  duration  of 
the  recitation  and  acting  of  a  play  is  about  two 
hours,  and  there  seldom  are  less  than  ten  peo 
ple  in  the  cast.  Even  if  the  play  is  what  is 
called  a  star  piece,  in  which  most  of  the  work 
is  assigned  to  the  leading  character,  not  one  of 
the  company  is  busy  more  than  one  hour  dur 
ing  the  course  of  the  evening.  Sometimes  I 
have  to  talk  two  hours  on  a  stretch,  with  in 
termissions  of  only  a  moment  or  two,  and 
even  then  I  am  on  the  stage  or  platform  so 
that  I  can't  change  my  clothes,  or  take  a  bite  of 
something,  or  try  two  or  three  whiffs  of  a  cigar, 
as  almost  any  actor  can  in  his  dressing-room. 
Many  a  time  I  attend  three  or  four  different  re 
ceptions  in  the  course  of  an  evening, — always  on 
business.  I  am  expected  at  each  to  do  my  very 
best,  which  I  always  try  to  do.  It  isn't  always 
easy  to  be  funny  to  order.  All  sorts  of  unex- 


Recollection*  of  a  Merry  Little  Life. 

pected  things  occur  to  upset  a  man's  plans, 
aud  I  am  no  exception  to  the  general  run  of 
human  nature.  I  have  to  attend  strictly  to 
business  on  such  occasions,  and  sometimes  it 
requires  all  the  strength  and  self-control  there 
is  in  me — not  that  I  have  anything  to  worry 
me  especially  regarding  myself,  but  that  I  feel 
responsible  for  what  the  several  audiences 
expect  of  me. 

Still,  I  have  nothing  to  complain  of.  I  have 
plenty  of  friends,  a  solacing  bank  account,  and 
I  succeed  in  having  a  good  deal  of  time  to  my 
self.  Whenever  I  have  an  unemployed  even 
ing  I  make  it  my  business  to  go  out  and  enjoy 
myself.  No  one  enjoys  better  than  I  hearing 
other  people  sing,  or  laugh,  or  talk  to  entertain 
the  public.  I  know  how  the  old  preacher  felt 
who,  going  with  his  son,  also  a  minister,  to 
hear  a  sermon  by  some  one  else,  heaved  a  deep 
sigh  of  content,  and  said  :  "  Son,  it's  a  great 
comfort  to  hear  somebody  else  hold  forth." 
Well,  that  comfort  is  mine  very  frequently.  I 
strike  some  golden  days  once  in  a  while,  or 
golden  nights.  When  a  reception  is  given 
by  Mrs.  Croly,  or  Mrs.  Frank  Leslie,  or  some 
other  of  my  kind  friends,  and  I  don't  chance 
to  be  engaged  that  night,  I  am  as  happy  as  a 
boy  who  has  found  a  new  bag  of  marbles. 


268  The  People  I've  Smiled  With. 

When  I  go  to  a  theatre  or  opera,  I  listen  to  the 
other  people  and  enjoy  myself  a  great  deal 
more  than  any  one  else  in  the  audience,  for  I 
know  by  experience  just  how  much  trouble  and 
pains  they  are  taking  to  entertain  other  people. 

That's  the  sort  of  a  fellow  I  am. 

Good-by  I 


FINIS. 


11  Reading  this  book  is  like  listening  to  a  humorous  lecture  by  Marshall 
P.  Wilder,  full  of  wit  and  brightness,  and  it  will  cheer  and  comfort  the  most 
morose  man  or  woman  just  to  read  it." — Baltimore  American. 

The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Street 

By  MARSHALL  P.    WILDER 

Author  of"  People  I  Have   Smiled  With" 

"  His  book — like  American  conversation — is  made  up  of  anecdotes 
He  talks  intimately  of  Richard  Croker,  President  McKinley,  President 
Harrison,  Joseph  Jefferson,  Senator  Depew,  Henry  Warterson,  Gen. 
Horace  Porter,  Augustin  Daly,  Henry  Irving,  Buffalo  Bill,  King 
Edward  VII,  Mrs.  Langtry,  and  a  host  of  other  personages,  large  and 
small,  and  medium  sized.  He  tells  many  good  stories.  We  can  rec 
ommend  his  book  as  cheerful  reading." — Ne-w  York  Times. 

A  SUN  NT  WELCOME    FROM  THE  CRITICS 

"  The  range  and  extent  of  the  little  nories  which  make  up  this  book  are 
surprising ;  and  all  is  told  with  such  a  delightful  freedom  from  affectation  and  in 
such  a  wholesouled  way  that  the  reader  is  charmed  with  both  matter  and 
manner.  .  .  .  It  is  a  book  fu.l  of  wit  and  gaiety,  and  must  add  to  the  sunshine 
of  life  for  many  who  need  it." — SaltLake  Tribune. 

"  His  words  are  an  antidote  for  the  shades,  the  blues,  and  the  sours.  They 
are  funny  without  being  vulgar,  and  humorous  without  sting."—  Religious 
Telescope,  Dayton,  O. 

"  There's  a  laugh  on  every  page,  and  more  new  and  good  storiet  than 
have  been  gotten  together  in  many  a  day." — Nashville  American. 

11  Altogether  it  is  a  delightful  book;  you  can  pick  it  up  and  begin  anywhere, 
but  it  will  be  impossible  for  you  to  find  a  page  which  will  not  amuse  you  and 
tempt  you  to  read  another,  and  then  two  more,  and  so  on,  turning  backward 
and  forward  as  the  moment  serves.  It  will  beguile  into  laughter  and  give 
you  a  restful  half-hour.  The  books  that  can  do  this  are  not  numerous  in  this 
work-a-day  world." — Brooklyn  Eaglt. 

"  A  book  in  which  shines  forth  the  light  of  hope  blended  with  the  rays  of 
keen  wit." — The  Call,  San  Francisco. 

"  There's  a  laugh  on  almost  every  page  of  the  book.  Indeed  it  starts 
right  in  before  one  has  looked  any  further  than  the  cover,  and  it  couldn't  very 
well  begin  sooner." — Newark  Advertiser. 

"  He  is  a  morose  man  who  will  not  be  melted  by  the  humor  of  Marshall 
P.  Wilder's'The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Street.'  There  are  hundreds  of  good 
laughs  in  the  book."—  The  Globe,  New  York. 

"  Mr.  Wilder  has  given  the  public  a  very  charming  and  clever  book.  .  . 
So  many  otherwise  dowered  people  are  blind  to  the  light  of  life,  that  for  thi» 
God-given  talent  of  opening  the  eyes  of  the  mentally  blind  to  the  sunshine  Mr. 
Wilder  has  the  thanks  of  many  to  whose  hearts  he  has  brought  cheer.  The 
man  who  can  make  the  world  smile  is  a  blessing,  and  this  little  man  merits 
the  highest  praise." — Post-Intelligencer,  Seattle,  Wash. 

I2mo,  cloth,  'with  a  handsome  and  original  cover  design  by  Charles 
Graham  and  humorous  pen-and-ink  sketches  by  Bart  Haley.  Frontispiece 
Portrait  of  Mr.  Wilder.  $I.3O>  net;  by  mail,  $I.JO. 

Sent  by  mail,  postpaid,  on  receipt  of  $1.30  by 

J.    5.    OGILVIE     PUBLISHING     COMPANY, 

57   Rose   Street,    New   York. 


IN  PREPARATION: 
Smiling  Around  the  World, 

(269) 


"MAN  IN  THE  STREET"  STORIES, 

From  •*  The  New  York  Times." 

I2mo.  32O  pages.   Cloth  Bound,  $1  OO.   With  an  in- 
trtoduction  by  t'hauncey  M.  Depew,  who  says  ofvthem  . 

"This  collection  of  stories  is  my  re 
fresher  every  Sunday  after  the  worry 
and  work  of  the  week.  I  know  of  no  ef 
fort  which  has  been  so  successful  in  col 
lecting  real  anecdotes  portraying  the 
humorous  side  of  life  as  thi?  volume." 

It  is  prepared  with  a  complete  index 
which  increases  its  value  very  much. 

Eead  what  reviewers  all  over  the 
country  say  of  the  book  : 


THEMANINTHESTREEf 
STORIES 

from  T&eJVewJ/ork  7/mes 


With  Introduction  dy 

CHAIMCEYM.DEPEW 


"Itisagrea*-  oolle^tion,  pnrt  the  reading 
ot  it  i»  a  treat. "-  SALT  LAKE  TRIBUNE. 

"The  kind  of  a  book  we  ^ali  a  'capital  f 
thing '    Its  humor  is  of  the  best  flavor."— 
MINNEAPOLIS  TIMES 

"  Is  well  worth  the  consideration  of  all."— 
PROVIDENCE  JOURNAL. 
"  Warranted  to  amuse  "—BOSTON  JOURNAL. 

"  Probably  D.O  book  of  its  kind  exceils  this  one."—  DETROIT  FREE  PRISF** 

"The  anecdotes  are  exceptionally  entertaining,  fuli  of  humor,  wtf  >  ,  i 

wisdom,  and  may  be  read  with  genuine  pleasure."— ST.  Louis  REPUBLIC 

Full  of  good  things."— PHILADELPHIA  INQUIRER. 
"  Senator  Depew  pavs  a  true  thing  in  commending  the  character  and 
jnality  of  the  book."— CLEVELAND  LEADER. 

"  We  cannot  deny  its  attainment  of  success."— BALTIMORE  SUN. 
"A  collection  of  the  utmost  use  for  those  who  wish  to  ute  brighi  lest 
and  modern  anecdote."— CHICAGO  DAILY  NEWS. 

"Every  after-dinner  speaker  should  be  thankful  for  the  publication 
In  book  form  of  the  '  Man  in  the  Street  Stories.' "—SPRINGFIELD  SUNDAY 
REPUBLICAN. 

"  They  will  make  the  reader  laugh  "—BUFFALO  EXPRESS. 
"  This  work  is  useful  In  more  ways  than  one." -RICHMOND  DISPATCH, 
"  Will  be  useful  to  aU  who  are  in  quest  of  stories  to  illustrate  points 
In  dinner  table  exploits."— BROOKLYN  EAGLE. 

"  The  story  teller  need  never  r  ,n  short  as  long  as  he  has  this  volume 
co  consult."— PHILADELPHIA  PRESS. 

"Constitute  a  very  mine  of  -iaterfal  for  both  the  political  campaign 
and  the  social  circle.  Always  Interesting."— PITTSEURG  INDEX-APPEAL. 

"  The  average  mertfc.$f  tl^pe  stories  Is  so  high,  that  the  prize  winning 
stories  are  little,  if  any,  Cotter  than  the  others-"- CHICAGO  INTER-OV-AN. 
"  Indispensable  to  a  properly  selected  library."— ST.  PAUL  GLOBE. 

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IUL11197261 

D    JUL    5 
OCT  1  4  2005 


4196& 

NO  -g0 

REC.  CIR.  SEP    5  '80 


72 -u AM  67 


LD  21-100m-9,'48(B399sl6)476 


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